Sanya, a timid young woman in her mid-20s, had moved far from the comfort of her childhood home to live in the outskirts of Bangalore in a 2 storey villa with her best friend, Simran, and the love of her life, Rishi. Having grown up with her grandfather in the foothills of Dalhousie after her parents’ tragic death in a car crash when she was only 12, Sanya’s life had been shaped by sorrow. The loss of her parents, who had worked in the very industry that once ignited her passion for engineering, had driven her away from the things she once loved. She no longer played with cars or engineering games—remnants of a past she couldn’t bear to revisit.

One evening, Sanya returned home, arms full of groceries, her breath uneven with exhaustion. She called out to her housemates, Simran and Rishi, and set the bags on the dining table. Simran, though her best friend, had grown distant, consumed by her own career and indifferent to Sanya's struggles. She entered the room, barely acknowledging Sanya as she unpacked the groceries. Rishi followed, Sanya’s boyfriend of six years. She adored him, and in that love, she endured his cruelty, excusing his abusive behavior with his nightly apologies.

Rishi greeted Sanya with a hug and a kiss on her forehead, while Simran rolled her eyes in mock disgust, drawing laughter from them all. Sanya, tired yet comforted, asked if Rishi had taken care of the gas pipeline that needed fixing. His failure to do so upset her—she was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to cook while others remained idle. Rishi’s temper flared. He yelled at her, belittling her as she stood helpless.

Unable to eat spicy food, Sanya often caved into Rishi’s preferences, settling for Chinese takeout despite her discomfort. As Rishi stormed out, slamming the door, Sanya felt a familiar wave of embarrassment. Simran, disappointed but silent, offered no support. Sanya rose quietly and retreated to her room.

Hours later, Sanya woke abruptly, not in her bed but standing in front of the bathroom mirror, fresh from a shower, her hands wet at the sink. Confused, she struggled to piece together how she had gotten there. Simran’s voice echoed through the house, snapping her back to reality. She dressed quickly and headed downstairs, where Simran worked at her laptop, preparing for an upcoming presentation.

Simran pointed out that Rishi hadn’t returned, which sent a ripple of panic through Sanya. Grabbing her phone, she dialed his number, only to hear it ringing somewhere in the house. They searched, following the sound until they reached the front door. Simran opened it cautiously, only to freeze at the sight before her.

Rishi lay on the doorstep, drenched in blood, food takeout scattered around him.

Sanya screamed his name and rushed to him, trying desperately to wake him—patting his face, shaking his shoulders, calling him by his pet names—all while sobbing uncontrollably. Simran, stunned but rational, urged Sanya to help drag the body inside before anyone could see. Together, they managed to pull Rishi’s lifeless body into the house.

As Sanya collapsed in tears, Simran wrapped her arms around her, trying to soothe her broken friend. But something caught her eye—something wrapped around Rishi’s neck. Trembling, Simran moved closer and saw it: a pair of chopsticks, bloodied and plunged into his throat. Her eyes drifted to Rishi’s clenched fist, where a piece of torn fabric was trapped. The fabric... it was from Sanya’s shirt—the same shirt she had worn earlier when she went grocery shopping.

Fear consumed Simran. Her gaze shifted back to Sanya, but something had changed. Sanya was no longer sobbing. She sat unnaturally still, her body rigid, her face expressionless. A wave of terror swept over Simran as she realized—it wasn’t Sanya sitting there anymore.

Before Simran could react, Sanya’s hand gripped her hair, yanking her to the floor. Simran struggled, trying to escape, but it was useless. Whoever—whatever—Sanya had become was stronger, fiercer. With a cold, detached look in her eyes, Sanya—or perhaps the entity controlling her—plucked the bloodied chopsticks from Rishi’s corpse and advanced on Simran.

This wasn’t the Sanya she knew. This was Junglee—Sanya’s twisted alter ego, an entity that had surfaced to protect her at any cost.

In that moment, Simran realized she wasn’t fighting her best friend. She was fighting the monster that had been hidden inside her all along.

Junglee stood over the body, a twisted smile playing on her lips, shaking her head as if amused by the thought. "You thought whatever you said would make Sanya bend to your will? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Whether Sanya speaks up or not—it doesn’t matter. *I* speak for her now. *I* will act."

Her voice darkened, a hint of mockery in her words. "Did you think you could take advantage of her innocence again? Deceive her? Leave her broken and alone like you always have? Same old story, right?"

She paused, her tone shifting, colder. "But not this time. You don’t understand—back then, I wasn’t here. Sanya was fragile. But now... now I am here. And no one—no one—can hurt her anymore."

Junglee circled the room slowly, her eyes locked on Simran. "Sanya may not know the truth, but I do. You’re all liars. Frauds. She doesn’t speak up, she just quietly suffers through it all, doesn’t she? And you, Rishi..." She gestured toward his lifeless body, her voice dripping with disdain. "She loved you. More than you deserved. But you were too blind, too selfish to understand how to treat her right. You hurt her every single day."

Her words grew sharper, filled with bitterness. "And it’s my job—my job—to deal with people like you. You pretend to stand by her side, but inside, you’re nothing but cowards. You don't deserve Sanya. Not her love. Not her loyalty. Not even her friendship."

Junglee’s smile twisted into something darker, a quiet satisfaction in her eyes as she whispered, "Sanya doesn’t need you—or anyone like you. For her, there’s only me. I am enough. I always have been."

Junglee’s eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as she looked down at Rishi's lifeless body. "You know," she began, her voice calm yet filled with venom, "there’s something Sanya never knew. Something no one ever suspected."

She crouched beside Rishi, almost as if sharing a dark secret. "I was the one who killed her parents."

Simran gasped, her blood running cold as Junglee's words echoed through the room. Junglee continued, unfazed by the horror around her.

"That car accident? It wasn’t an accident. I cut the brake cords." Her tone was chillingly matter-of-fact, as though she were recounting a trivial memory. "They wanted to take her away—away from her grandpa, away from the only place she ever felt safe. And Sanya... she didn’t want to go."

She stood back up, eyes flashing with dark pride. "I did what I had to do. To protect her. To keep her safe. They were going to rip her away from everything she loved, and I couldn’t allow that."

Junglee's voice dropped to a cold whisper, her gaze locking onto Simran. "I’ve been protecting her ever since. I always will."

And then, with a slow, deliberate step forward, her voice deepened into a low, dangerous growl.

"And no one—no one—will ever touch her again."

Her gaze finally shifted to the bloody scene around her. Without a hint of emotion, Junglee sighed. "Anyway... let's clean up this mess." She glanced at Simran, who was trembling in terror.

"Sanya’s sensitive. She won’t be able to handle seeing all this blood."

She then walked away from the bodies, taking very unnaturally heavy steps and giggling. Clearing up everything because the world knew, or was supposed to know was that Rishi and Simran ran away leaving Sanya behind and that’s why she moved back to Dalhousie with her grandpa.

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