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Ajay and Rita were known among friends and family as the perfect couple. Married for five years, their relationship appeared balanced—Ajay’s calm nature complementing Rita’s quiet strength. They shared laughter, routine, and trust, or so it seemed on the surface.
One afternoon, a brightly colored wedding card arrived at their home. It was from Dinesh, the younger brother of Tina—Ajay’s closest friend since college. Dinesh was marrying a girl from another state, and the wedding would follow traditional Hindu customs, including a Baraat (Varayatra) that would travel for two full days to reach the bride’s village.
That same evening, Tina herself arrived to personally invite them.
“You both have to come,” she said warmly. “Not just the wedding—you must be part of the Baraat. We’ve booked a luxury bus, food, music, everything.”
Tina spoke easily with Rita, but her eyes often drifted toward Ajay. Rita noticed, but said nothing.
Tina had never married.
Everyone knew why.
She had once loved Ajay deeply—but fate had taken a different turn. Ajay married Rita, and Tina had remained the best friend, burying feelings she never truly overcame.
The Day of the Baraat
On the morning the Baraat was to depart, Tina arrived to pick them up.
Ajay was ready early. Rita, as usual, was still getting dressed.
When Ajay opened the door, he froze.
Tina stood there in a traditional outfit, elegant and radiant. Her presence stirred something Ajay had long believed was buried. For a moment, words escaped him.
“You look… beautiful,” he said softly.
Ajay sighed. “You know Rita… it’ll be at least an hour.”
They sat together on the sofa, silence slowly filling the room.
“You know,” Tina said quietly, “if you had married me… all of this”—she gestured to herself—“would have been yours.”
Ajay swallowed. “I made a mistake. I should have married you.”
That single sentence broke years of restraint.
In a moment of weakness, they leaned toward each other—lost in regret, emotion, and longing.
The Glass That Fell
When Rita entered the room, she stopped.
Her eyes caught the truth.
She turned silently toward the kitchen. A glass slipped from her trembling hand and shattered on the floor.
The sound snapped Ajay and Tina apart.
“The glass… it slipped,” Rita said, her voice calm—but distant.
Ajay held her hand. “Leave it. We’ll clean it after we return.”
Rita said nothing.
The Journey Begins
They boarded the luxury bus. Tina made sure Ajay and Rita were seated comfortably.
But Rita did not speak.
After five hours, the bus stopped near an ancient fort. Nearby stood an old hotel, dimly lit and unsettling.
Whispers spread.
“That place is haunted.”
Ajay asked Rita if she wanted to come inside.
“No,” she said flatly.
Ajay walked toward the hotel—with Tina.
The Last Hour
Inside, Ajay confessed his fear.
“I think Rita saw us.”
Her words felt dangerous—yet comforting.
“We have one hour,” Ajay said impulsively. “Let’s celebrate what we feel.”
They took a room.
Inside, Ajay drank a glass of water offered there.
The moment he finished it, darkness swallowed him.
3:30 AM
Ajay woke suddenly.
Cold. Silent.
“Four hours?” he whispered.
He turned—but Tina was gone.
Panicked, he rushed outside.
The bus was gone.
The hotel was gone.
The fort—gone.
Trees surrounded him.
A jungle.
He screamed for help, but only silence answered.
Inside the Bus
The Baraat moved forward through the night.
Rita sat quietly.
Ajay sat beside her—holding her hand.
She smiled.
The Question That Remains
Who was screaming in the jungle?
Who was holding Rita’s hand?
Or did Rita, silent and smiling, plan everything?
And most haunting of all—
Who is the Ajay sitting beside her now?
