Page 90 of Mrs. Pandey
My hands trembled so violently I thought the phone might slip straight from my fingers and shatter on the floor. My pulse was drumming in my ears, drowning out every other sound, everythought. Each beat felt like a blow from inside my chest, too fast, too loud, too hard. I couldn't breathe.
Kabir's last message sat there on the screen, glowing in the dark like poisonous words coiled and still, a venomous snake waiting for me to make the wrong move.
I wanted to call Prashant. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be in ten places at once, standing in Delhi at Pari's side, clawing the panic out of my own skin, and in whatever hell Kabir was hiding in so I could drag him out and end this myself.
But I didn't move.
The air around me felt thick, heavy, pressing in. My body seemed disconnected from my mind, my fingers froze, my knees locked, and my breathing shallow.
Then ping. The sound made me flinch so hard my chair scraped against the floor.
It wasn't a message. It was a video.
My stomach twisted. My thumb hesitated above the screen. Part of me didn't want to open it, didn't want to see it. But I knew Kabir, if I didn't watch, I'd imagine something worse.
I tapped it.
Pari.
She was sitting in a plain chair against a wall I didn't recognize, her wrists bound tight, her mouth gagged, her eyes puffy and red from crying. Her hair was messy, her shoulders hunched in a way that screamed defeat. And then I heard him.
Kabir's voice slithered from behind the camera, smooth and deliberate.
"Such a delicate little bird," he murmured, circling her like a predator sizing up prey. "It's almost cruel how the world doesn't protect girls like this."
My stomach lurched violently. I slapped a hand over my mouth, but the bile still scorched the back of my throat. My vision blurred for a moment.
The video ended abruptly.
I didn't have time to breathe before another ping and another video.
This one was worse.
He stepped into frame this time, leaning over her, his fingers brushing through her hair in a mockery of tenderness. Pari flinched so hard the chair legs rattled against the floor. She turned her head away, but he gripped her chin, forcing her to face him.
I couldn't stop shaking. My fingers flew over the keyboard. Kabir, stop this. RIGHT NOW.
The reply came instantly. "Tell your loving husband the truth before I decide her fate. He deserves to know what kind of woman he married."
Before I could type another word, a small notification flashed that he was forwarding the videos to Prashant.
"No..." I whispered, my voice breaking. "No, no, no."
My phone rang almost immediately. Not Kabir this time.
Prashant.
My breath stuttered. I answered.
"Prashant..."
"What the hell is this, Ira?" His voice wasn't the warm, steady anchor I knew, it was sharp, cold, edged like a blade. "Why is my sister in that state? Who is this man? And how does he know you? Why does he keep saying your name?"
"I can explain..."
On the other end, I could hear his fast and uneven breathing like he was pacing. "He said..." Prashant's voice shook, but his anger was steady. "He said you left him to marry me, so that you could protect yourself from your father. You only wanted my protection and you used me again? Is he the one you were going to marry?” He paused for a moment. “You just put Pari's life in danger because of your mess."
"That's not true..." I tried, but my words tangled in my throat.
