The Nightfall Mansion didn't breathe.
It waited.
It sat like a centuries-old beast, coiled and listening. Nothing creaked. No clock ticked. Even the shadows seemed to stay perfectly still, as if they feared drawing attention to themselves.
I stood barefoot in the hallway, my fingers clutching the edge of the dupatta draped over my nightgown. My bridal lehenga had been folded and taken away by a maid who never spoke, only bowed. Everything here was muted—polished stone floors, pale blue walls, mirrors that were too clean, too tall. I kept catching glimpses of myself in them, like they were checking to see if I'd changed since the last time.
Maybe I had.
Aaryan hadn't come back to the bedroom after that warning. He left me with a cursed riddle and vanished.
Now I couldn't sleep. So I wandered.
I should've been scared. Of the house. Of the man. Of the curse.
But weirdly, what scared me most… was how numb I felt.
Where was Anaya? Why did no one speak her name?
And why did the air in this mansion feel like it was full of secrets?
I padded past a hallway lined with portraits. All men. All Nightfalls. Some wore ancient armor, others sleek suits. A few had eyes that seemed just a bit too alive. One of them wore a blood-red tie, his lips curled in the faintest grin. The plaque beneath read:
> Aron Nightfall – 1861–1903 – The Whispering Heir
What does that even mean?
I moved on.
There were twenty-two bedrooms in this house. Twenty-two. And only one of them was mine.
Well, not mine. Hers.
The real bride's.
And then I saw it.
A door. Slightly open. A warm glow leaking from inside.
Maybe a study?
I stepped closer, pushing gently.
Inside was a library. Not a big one. More like a secret reading room—wood-paneled walls, narrow floor lamps, rows of books stacked with deliberate chaos. At the center, lounging on a couch like he didn't have a whole curse attached to his chest, sat Aaryan.
He wasn't wearing his sherwani anymore. Just a loose black kurta and pajama pants. His hair was a bit messy now. He looked… too human.
Until he looked up.
Then he didn't look human at all.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low.
I stepped inside without asking. "Couldn't sleep."
He didn't respond, just stared at me like I was a question with a million wrong answers.
"Is this room forbidden too?" I asked, glancing at the shelves.
"There are no forbidden rooms here," he said, placing his book facedown on his chest. "Just doors you should think twice before opening."
"That's not creepy at all."
"Didn't say I wasn't creepy."
A pause.
I tilted my head, pretending to read a spine titled Bloodlines and Blessings. "Do you always threaten your new wife on the wedding night? Or is this just your version of pillow talk?"
That made him smirk. Barely.
"You're not scared," he observed. "Most women would be."
"Yeah, well, most women didn't grow up with a twin sister who thought Ouija boards were a great Saturday activity."
I wasn't sure why I said that. Maybe because it felt weird to pretend she never existed.
But when I mentioned her, Aaryan's gaze darkened.
"She knew," he said.
I blinked. "Knew what?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stood, walked over to a side cabinet, and pulled out a drawer. From it, he took a faded piece of parchment. He handed it to me silently.
It was a marriage contract—not legal, not in any modern format. More like an ancient pact. It had her name—Anaya Verma—signed at the bottom in blood-red ink.
"She agreed?" I asked, my voice cracking.
Aaryan looked me in the eye. "She came to me willingly. Said she wanted to break the curse. Said she wasn't afraid."
"Then what happened?"
"She lied."
I stared at him, pulse thudding.
"She left?" I whispered.
"She ran."
"From what?"
He stepped closer now. Too close.
"From me."
His words landed heavy. And for the first time, I saw something almost painful flicker across his face. Regret?
Before I could speak, something shifted behind me. The air. The lights. The mirror on the far wall flickered—yes, flickered—like a screen glitching.
I turned around instantly.
"What was that?" I asked.
Aaryan said nothing.
When I looked back at him, he was already gone.
—
Back in the bedroom, I found a white envelope on the nightstand.
No name.
Just one card inside:
> "Day 1"
> The house will test you. Let it.
I didn't sleep that night either.
But I dreamed.
In the dream, I was standing in the library. The same one. Only this time, the books were whispering. Hundreds of voices murmuring in languages I couldn't understand. Aaryan stood across from me, eyes black like obsidian, mouth moving but no sound coming out.
I reached for him.
But the floor turned to glass—and beneath it, I saw my sister. Drowning.
She looked up at me and mouthed something.
"He lied."
Then I fell through the glass.
And woke up choking on air.