Smoke Between the Frames
2:17 AM, Shreya’s Apartment
The silence was suffocating.
Shreya lay curled on her bed, eyes fixed on the curtain swaying faintly in the night breeze. Her DSLR sat beside her pillow — lens cap off, grip smudged from her anxious hands. She hadn’t slept more than two hours in three nights.
The memory of Aarav’s voice echoed in her head:
“You’re already in the frame.”
She wasn’t sure what scared her more — being watched… or not knowing when it started.
Unknown
📱You wore red again tonight.
Unknown
📱That color clings to your skin in the dark. I watched you undress.
Unknown
You left the curtain half open. Like you wanted to be seen. 😈
Her breath hitched. Her fingers turned cold.
She looked around the room — the window, the door. Everything looked normal.
It wasn’t.
The Next Morning – Maya’s Apartment
Maya Kapoor (FL cousin & bff)
You should’ve stayed here last night! What the hell, Shreya?!
Shreya Singh (FL)
I didn’t expect him to get bolder.
Shreya Singh (FL)
He’s not just watching me… he’s studying me.
Maya Kapoor (FL cousin & bff)
He’s SICK. Call the cops. Change your locks. Move countries if you have to.😟
Shreya opened her phone again. There was more.
Unknown
📱You touch your lips when you’re nervous.
Unknown
📱You let out a soft sigh when you lie on your side.
Unknown
📱I hear everything. Even your breathing changes when you think of me. 👂💤
Maya Kapoor (FL cousin & bff)
Oh my god… he’s listening?🫢
Shreya Singh (FL)
He knows my breathing, Maya
Maya Kapoor (FL cousin & bff)
We're installing cameras of our own.
Maya Kapoor (FL cousin & bff)
Rohan’s coming. I'm not taking no for an answer.
Later That Day – Shreya’s Apartment
Shreya returned to grab her camera equipment and backup drives. She moved cautiously. Every door she passed felt like it could hide a shadow. Every mirror reflected a question she didn’t want to ask.
The tripod — which she always kept folded behind her closet — was now standing by the window, open.
Her ring light was on.
And on the bed…
A polaroid photo.
Face-down. Crisp edges. Freshly taken.
She flipped it with trembling fingers.
Sleeping. On this bed. Wearing her red tank top.
Her hair spilling across the pillow. Her arms curled in.
Timestamp: 01:48 AM.
Just a few hours ago.
Her knees gave out.
She backed away, hitting the wall. A choked sob escaped her throat.
Unknown
📱You sleep without a bra.
Unknown
📱The camera caught every little shift your body made beneath the sheets.
Unknown
📱You’re art when you’re unaware.🗣️
Unknown
📱I’m just framing what already belongs to me. 📷🖤
She nearly dropped her phone. Tears stung her eyes — not out of weakness, but the horrible realization:
Shreya Singh (FL)
He had been in the room.😢
While she slept.
So close he could take a photo without waking her.
She ran to the window. Looked down.
Nothing.
Just a wet street. Flickering lights. An empty scooter parked sideways. But no face. No figure.
Her hands trembled as she tried to call Maya, but her screen lit up with yet another message:
Unknown
📱You fell asleep without locking the second bolt.
Unknown
📱I stood so close...
Unknown
📱I could smell your shampoo.
Unknown
📱Next time, I might not just watch. 😶🌫️
At the Solvex Tower, in a dark conference room, Aarav stood over a desk filled with surveillance stills.
He scrolled through the surveillance logs Advait had sent him earlier.
Advait Sharma (32)
Solvex’s internal investigator. Ex-intelligence. Scar on his jaw. Eyes like glass.
Advait Sharma
Security footage confirms it. Someone entered her apartment around 1:30 AM.
Advait Sharma
Slipped through the balcony. Didn’t stay long.
Aarav Agnihotri
Was it him?
Advait Sharma
Too blurry. No facial match. But he knew the camera angle. He avoided every lens.
Aarav Agnihotri
He’s testing her. Watching her unravel.
Advait Sharma
And what are you doing?
Aarav Agnihotri
Trying to keep her alive.
Back to Shreya’s Apartment, 11:44 PM
She locked all windows. Curtains closed. Camera turned off.
Still, the silence didn’t feel safe.
She sat on the floor, hugging her knees, when her phone buzzed one more time.
This time, it wasn’t a message.
It was a video.
She hesitated — then tapped “Play.”
It opened with a shaky frame.
Her kitchen.
The angle looked familiar — but wrong.
Then she saw it: her — slicing vegetables.
The camera was behind the curtain.
Her curtain.
And in the background, barely visible in the mirror behind her…
A hand. Holding the camera.
Just a flash of skin. A tattoo on the wrist.
And then—
The video cuts.
Her fingers trembled.
She was not being followed.
She was being stalked. Planned for. Framed.
A knock came at the door.
She froze.
The knock again. Three times. Then silence.
Her phone buzzed one final time that night:
Unknown
📱You’re almost ready now.
Unknown
📱All masterpieces require patience.
Unknown
When you're broken just enough... I'll frame you forever.
Comments