Into the Obsession

The final page

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Chapter One: The Final Page

Rain slammed against the windows of Aanya Sharma’s tiny apartment in Delhi, wind howling like a warning. But she didn’t flinch. Curled up in a blanket, her eyes were locked on her tablet screen, completely absorbed.

She had been reading Mafia Obsession nonstop for two days — a dark, addictive romance about an Indian doctor, Dr. Rhea Sharma, and a dangerously charming Russian mafia boss, Damien Orlov.

And now, she was on the final chapter.

Her fingers trembled as she read the final lines:

> "Rhea collapsed in Damien’s arms, whispering his name. Her blood soaked his shirt. Damien kissed her forehead... and pulled the trigger."

The tablet screen faded to black. THE END.

Aanya sat in stunned silence. The cold seeped into her bones, but her heart was burning.

“No,” she whispered. “That’s not how it should’ve ended.”

Rhea had been kind, brilliant, innocent. She had healed Damien, trusted him, loved him. And he had murdered her — the one person who actually cared.

Because he was obsessed.

Because he couldn’t control his madness.

Because in the end… he was never the hero.

Aanya slammed the tablet shut and threw it across the bed. The tea on her desk had gone cold. Her hands curled into fists.

“She never even saw it coming,” she muttered. “She thought he was saving her.”

Outside, thunder cracked so loud it rattled the windows. A gust of wind pushed open her half-latched window. Rain sprayed into the room.

“Damn it,” Aanya muttered, rushing over to shut it. The moment her fingers touched the pane—

CRACK!

A blinding flash of lightning exploded across the sky. In the same instant, a searing jolt surged through her body. The world around her blurred and twisted, spinning in a vortex of blinding white and deafening thunder.

Then—silence.

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Aanya’s eyes fluttered open.

The sterile scent of disinfectant filled her nose. The ceiling above was unfamiliar — white, fluorescent-lit, and far too clean.

She gasped, bolting upright.

“What the—”

She was lying on a hospital bed. Her clothes were gone, replaced with light blue scrubs. An IV drip was connected to her arm.

Where was she?

Footsteps echoed outside the room. A sharp knock, then a voice.

> “Is the new intern awake?”

The door opened, and in walked a woman in a white coat, holding a clipboard. Her hair was tied in a neat ponytail. She looked professional, elegant, and kind.

Aanya’s breath caught in her throat.

Dr. Rhea Sharma.

“No way…” Aanya whispered.

The woman frowned. “Are you okay? You’re the intern from Delhi, right? You fainted during orientation. Do you need a minute?”

Aanya stared, heart pounding.

This wasn’t cosplay. This wasn’t a hallucination.

Rhea’s voice. Her face. The way she spoke — everything was exactly as described in the book.

She was inside the story.

“No, I’m fine,” Aanya mumbled, struggling to sit up. “Just… a bit light-headed.”

> This is the scene where she meets Damien, Aanya realized. He’s about to come in, bleeding from a gunshot wound. She saves him. And everything goes downhill from there.

Aanya’s palms turned cold with sweat. Her mind raced.

She knew how this story ended.

And if things played out the same way — Rhea would die. At the hands of Damien Orlov.

But now Aanya was here. She wasn’t a side character in a book anymore — she was a living part of the story.

> “You okay?” Rhea asked again, gently this time.

Aanya looked at her — really looked at her. Alive. Compassionate. Trusting.

She couldn't let her die.

> “Yes,” Aanya said, determination hardening in her voice. “I'm fine. And I think I’m right where I need to be.”

Outside, the doors burst open. Voices shouted.

> “Gunshot wound! Male, early thirties, bleeding heavily!”

Aanya turned.

She knew exactly who that was.