Whispers Beyond The Veil

Chapter 2

The morning began with a cacophony of frantic caws. Kisha, bleary-eyed and reaching for a mug of coffee slammed on the brakes. A crow, a creature considered a harbinger of bad luck in Indian folklore, had perched itself on their open windowsill. Its beady black eyes seemed to fixate on Kisha, and with a series of harsh caws, it launched itself towards her.

Kisha shrieked, leaping back as the crow swooped past, its inky wings brushing her face. With a final, defiant squawk, it snatched a bright red hairbrush from the nearby dresser and took flight, disappearing out the window with Kisha's lucky charm clutched in its beak.

Flustered and shaken, Kisha stared at the empty windowsill, the stolen brush a vivid symbol of the day's potential misfortune. As she turned back to her now-lukewarm coffee a sickening squelch echoed from under her foot. Looking down, she discovered the culprit - the red liquid staining the rug was none other than her spilled coffee a dark crimson bloom spreading across the beige fabric.

A groan escaped her lips. This wouldn't be the first time Kisha's lucky red scarf, a symbol of good fortune gifted by her grandmother, had borne the brunt of misfortune. But a stolen hairbrush and spilled coffee on moving day? It felt like the universe was conspiring against them.

Meanwhile, across the room, Adaa was wrestling with her own minor disaster. As she knelt beside a half-packed box, a loud snap echoed through the room. Reaching down, she discovered the culprit - the lace on her favorite pair of sneakers had snapped clean in two, leaving her with a useless floppy mess.

"Great," she muttered, frustration lacing her voice. Finding a replacement pair at this late hour would be impossible, and the thought of navigating the chaotic streets of Hyderabad in mismatched shoes was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Just as Adaa was about to resign herself to an uncomfortable commute, the lights flickered and died, plunging the apartment into darkness. A collective gasp escaped their lips. The power outage, a frequent occurrence in their old building, threatened to derail their entire move-in schedule.

Kisha fumbled for her phone, its weak flashlight beam barely cutting through the gloom. "This can't be happening," she muttered, her voice laced with despair.

Adaa, ever the pragmatist, took a deep breath.

"Alright, Kisha," she said, her voice surprisingly calm. "Let's not panic. We can still manage. We'll pack what we can and hope the power comes back on soon."

But as they continued packing in the dim light, a nagging feeling of unease settled in their stomachs. The series of seemingly insignificant mishaps - the crow, the spilled coffee, the broken shoelace, and now the power outage - felt more than coincidental. Could these be ominous signs, a prelude to a disastrous move-in day, or were they just a string of unfortunate events on a day already fraught with stress?

With the weight of their inauspicious morning hanging heavy in the air, Kisha and Adaa locked the door to their old apartment, stepping out into the bustling streets of Hyderabad, their new home and its uncertain future awaiting them.

The rickety auto-rickshaw sputtered to a halt outside the vibrantly painted apartment building in Madhapur.

Adaa and Kisha, faces flushed with the chaotic Hyderabad traffic, exchanged a wary glance. Their journey to claim their new home had been plagued by a series of strange occurrences, each more unsettling than the last.

A little girl, no older than five, with fiery braids that mirrored Kisha's own, sat sprawled on the grass, kicking her legs and wailing loudly. A man with a gentle face and worry etched on his brow knelt beside her. Kisha, with her natural empathy for children, couldn't resist.