A Mysterious Bond

That evening, an unshakable ache gnawed at my chest, and the sharp bite of the cold air only deepened the unease clawing at me. The sky was dim, and as I turned onto a deserted road seeping into the dark heart of the woods, my pulse began to race. The silence was unnatural, shattered only by the faint crunch of footsteps behind me. They grew louder, closer—paralleling mine with chilling precision. I wasn’t alone.Then, through the shifting mist, a faint silhouette emerged—a woman, her figure ghostly in the gloom, clutching an axe that gleamed faintly under the pale light. My instincts screamed to turn back, yet I kept my pace, compelled by something that was not quite fear and not quite fascination. She did not look at me as our paths crossed, her expression vacant, her stride steady. A sudden low rumble split the silence, and rain began to pour, smothering the forest in shadows.I quickened my steps to follow her, but she remained eerily unaffected by my presence, her figure moving with an unsettling grace. Minutes later, we stumbled out into the clearing of a brook. The water, dark and glassy, shimmered under the starlight as it rushed over rocks in haunting rhythm. Lifting her dress, she stepped into the stream without hesitation.Just as I moved to follow, movement behind her caught my eye. A long, sinuous shape cut through the water—a snake, massive and menacing, gliding directly toward her. Panic surged through me. I shouted, racing forward, but before I could warn her, she turned sharply, her axe flashing in the rain. It arced through the air toward me. My body instinctively dove aside, the blade slicing where I had stood a heartbeat before. When I stammered an explanation about the lurking serpent, her expression shifted; she smiled faintly, offering me a look so warm it unnerved me. For a fleeting moment, the danger dissolved, replaced by something strangely tender. Then, just as suddenly, she was gone—vanished, like mist torn by the night wind.I stood beneath the shroud of stars, replaying the encounter. The image of her—ethereal and terrifying—burned in my mind long after I stumbled home.The next morning, after a restless sleep haunted with fragments of her face, I wandered to the market. I entered the bakery, still distracted, and felt a jolt of electricity surge through me. She was there—the same woman. This time, without axe or storm, but with the same unsettling grace. She turned, her eyes meeting mine.“We met last night,” she said softly. “I’m Gunjan. Thank you for saving me.”Her words carried both relief and something darker I could not decipher. When she asked me to show her around, I agreed too quickly, as though caught in her spell. We walked the cobbled lanes, but when she finally bid farewell, she slipped away with no backward glance, leaving me stranded in the hollow of her absence.Obsessed, I awaited her the next day, lying to my boss about illness so I could linger at the bakery all morning. She never appeared. Frustration morphed into shame, and by noon I dragged myself to work, only to stumble upon a strange coincidence. The office buzzed with celebration—it was the birthday of my newly transferred superior. But when I went to wish him, empty-handed and embarrassed, I heard it again—that voice.Gunjan.She stepped into the room like a vision, dressed elegantly, yet carrying the same enigmatic aura that first unsettled me. My heart froze as I watched her lean in to whisper something to the man beside her. My boss. Her father. His gaze turned toward me, filled with unusual warmth, as he thanked me for protecting his daughter.From that day forward, Gunjan and I became inseparable. Nights bled into mornings as we whispered secrets and shared silences heavier than words. Our bond grew quickly, dangerously so, as though fate itself were pushing us. Within a month, we married.On our wedding night, I watched her delicate frame move within the dim light of our new room. Then, faintly, a knock rattled the door. My eyelids fell heavy; the world wavered. Somewhere in the distance, my name was being called. When I forced my eyes open, I found myself drenched, lying on a bed I did not recognize. My clothes clung to me, soaked as though I had just emerged from the brook.Had it all been a dream? A cruel trick of the woods? Or something far darker, stitched into the seams of reality? The truth never revealed itself—only the haunting memory of a woman who might never have existed at all.