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Romance Psycho Lovers
- Thread starter RagVi Singh
- Start date
- 19,087
- 3,061
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Episode 2: Control and Only Control
Arnav ko hamesha se lagta tha ki log zyada bolte hain.Woh bolte rehte hain taaki khamoshi unse sawal na pooch le.
Clinic se nikalne ke baad usne gaadi start nahi ki. Parking lot almost khaali tha. Shaam ho chuki thi, par sheher abhi bhi zinda tha—horns, log, awaazein. Sab kuch chal raha tha. Sirf woh ruk gaya tha
Steering wheel par uske haath the, bilkul tight grip mein. Jaise agar chhod diya, toh kuch galat ho jayega.
Raghav ki awaaz abhi bhi uske dimaag mein ghoom rahi thi.
“Yeh theek nahi hai, Arnav.”
Logon ko har ajeeb cheez theek nahi lagti hai.
Par ajeeb cheezon ke bina kuch bhi yaad rakhne layak nahi hota.
Usne aakhir gaadi start ki.
Ghar pohonchne tak usne music nahi chalaya. Silence zyada honest hoti hai—yeh Arnav maanta tha. Silence mein koi jhooth nahi hota. Sirf tum… aur tumhare khayal.
Flat ka darwaaza kholte hi wahi familiar smell—cleaning liquid aur thodi si purani hawa. Ghar saaf tha. Hamesha hota tha. Har cheez apni jagah par. Sofa ke cushions perfectly aligned, kitchen counter spotless, curtains seedhi.
Log kehte the yeh discipline hai.
Arnav jaanta tha—yeh control hai.
Usne shoes utaare, unhe seedha rakh kar wall ke paas lagaya. Phir bina light jalaye andar chala gaya. Andhera usse disturb nahi karta tha. Andhera predictable hota hai.
Bedroom mein jaakar woh bed par baith gaya.
Mobile uske haath mein tha, screen blank.
Usne check nahi kiya.
Intezaar bhi ek aadat ban chuka tha.
Raghav ne poocha tha—“Tum kya mehsoos karte ho?”
Arnav ko sawaal ajeeb laga tha. Mehsoos karna koi option thodi hota hai. Mehsoos toh hota hi hai. Chaaho ya na chaaho.
Usse yaad aaya jab pehli baar usse yeh samajh aaya tha ki woh baaki logon jaisa nahi hai. Bachpan mein, jab log rote the, woh sirf observe karta tha. Jab log haste the, woh timing note karta tha. Feelings uske liye hamesha ek pattern rahe—samajhne layak, par mehsoos karne layak nahi.
Phir bhi…
kuch cheezein usse mehsoos hoti thi.
Usne apni kalai dekhi. Pulse thodi tez thi. Raghav ne sahi kaha tha—body jhooth nahi bolti. Par body ko bhi aadat ho jaati hai.
Usne aankhen band ki.
Wahan ek presence thi. Naam nahi, chehra nahi—sirf ek feeling. Jaise koi bilkul paas khada ho, par touch na kare. Arnav ke liye yeh feeling unfamiliar nahi thi. Yeh use calm karti thi.
“Tum yahan ho,” usne dheere se kaha, almost breath ke saath.
Usse pata nahi tha woh kis se baat kar raha hai.
Par baat karna zaroori tha.
Mobile vibrate nahi hua.
Phir bhi usne uthaya.
Screen par koi notification nahi tha.
Phir bhi usne dekha.
Yeh bhi ek aadat thi.
Log sochte hain obsession loud hota hai. Calls, messages, jealousy. Arnav jaanta tha obsession shaant hota hai. Woh chup chaap tumhari routine ban jaata hai. Tumhe lagta hai tum control mein ho—jab tak tum bina uske soch hi nahi paate.
Kitchen mein jaakar usne paani piya. Glass dhone ke baad exactly usi jagah rakha jahan se uthaya tha. Small cheezein matter karti thi. Small cheezein big picture ko stable rakhti hain.
Raghav ka chehra uske dimaag mein aaya. Concern. Fear. Distance.
Log beech mein kyun aate hain?
Arnav ne khud se poocha.
Shayad kyunki unhe lagta hai unka hona zaroori hai.
Par zaroorat dangerous hoti hai.
Bed par wapas jaakar woh seedha let gaya. Neend abhi bhi door thi. Neend usse pasand nahi karti thi, aur woh neend ko force nahi karta tha.
Ceiling ko dekhte hue usne socha—agar koi usse sach mein samajh leta, toh kya hota? Agar koi uski khamoshi ko language samajh leta?
Uske hothon par ek halki si muskaan aayi.
Possibility ki wajah se nahi.
Certainty ki wajah se.
“Sab theek hai,” usne khud se kaha. “Sab control mein hai.”
Par kahin deep andar, ek aur thought bhi tha—bilkul shaant, bilkul clear:
Control ka matlab yeh nahi hota ki kuch toot nahi sakta.
Kabhi kabhi control ka matlab hota hai—tum ready ho jab kuch tootega.
Arnav ne aankhen band kar li.
Aur andhere mein, bina kisi naam ke, bina kisi chehre ke—
woh feeling phir se paas aa gayi.
Stay tunned next update soon
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So let's start the review
Yeh episode shuru se hi ek heavy feeling create karta hai. Clinic ka normal sa scene hone ke baad bhi andar ka tension clearly feel hota hai. Hame lagta hai ki yeh sirf therapy session nahi, balki Arnav ke dimaag ke andar jhaankne jaisa hai.
Arnav ka character kaafi deep aur thoda disturbing hai. Woh zyada bolta nahi, par jo bolta hai woh seedha lagta hai. Uska pain aur obsession dono saath-saath dikhta hai, isliye ham confuse ho jaata hai- use samjhe ya usse dare.
Dr. Raghav ka role simple par strong hai. Woh sirf doctor nahi, balki ek concerned insaan lagta hai jo sach bolne se darta nahi. Dono ke beech ka conversation story ko aur zyada intense bana deta hai.
Anamika zyada appear nahi karti, phir bhi poori story mein uski presence mehsoos hoti rehti hai. Yeh cheez episode ko aur dark bana deti hai.
Overall, writing clean hai, dialogues meaningful hain... That dialogue
“Yeh sirf shuruaat ka sukoon hai.”
Episode 1 ne kaafi strong foundation set kar diya hai. Ab expectations high ho chuki hain.
Next episode ka wait rahega aur haa index bana logi to acha rahega...
Good luck Ragvi
update 2 postedSasuri ka pata nahi sab uper uper se gya jaise virgin ladki ho
Jo bhi tha
Aage or update deti rahna
do check
vihan27
Blood Makes Empire Not Tear
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Simple writing, but deep impact. Episode quietly shows Arnav’s need for control through small details. No drama, yet the tension is always there. The silent obsession and That nameless presence adds mystery and keeps the reader thinking. Curious to see what breaks when control starts slipping....
Good luck
- 3,061
- 945
- 114
(sunday special)
Large screens par headlines loop ho rahe the—
same words, different fonts.
“ROMANTICIZING OBSESSION?”
“DARK FICTION OR DANGEROUS FANTASY?”
“WRITER UNDER FIRE”
Conference room ke glass walls ke andar thandi white light thi. AC thoda zyada chal raha tha. Table ke beech ek laptop open tha—comment section scroll ho raha tha, rukne ka naam nahi le raha tha.
“This is unhealthy.”
“This isn’t love, this is manipulation.”
“Who writes this and sleeps at night?”
“Someone check the author.”
Social media manager ne mouse chhod diya.
“Tone shift ho gaya hai,” usne kaha. “Yeh sirf critique nahi hai.”
PR head ne pen ko ungliyon ke beech ghumaya. “Moral outrage zyada der chalta hai.”
Content editor ne screen se nazar hatai. “Par iss baar log kahani se zyada writer ko dissect kar rahe hain.”
Table ke kone par ek kursi thi.
Wahan baithi aurat meeting ka centre nahi thi—
phir bhi saari baat usi ke around ghoom rahi thi.
Woh black fitted blazer mein thi. Andar crisp, high-neck top. Slim trousers, sharply pressed. Pairon mein high heels—pointed, steady, bilkul silent nahi par noticeable. Baal neatly pulled back, jawline clear. Makeup minimal par intentional—defined eyes, neutral lips.
Jab woh chair se thoda sa aage jhuki, heels ne halki si awaaz ki.
Room ek pal ke liye aur shaant ho gaya.
Uske saamne laptop band tha.
Phone screen down.
Jab screen par personal comments aaye, kisi ne reflexively uski taraf dekha.
Uske chehre par koi visible discomfort nahi tha.
Na eyebrows uthi. Na lips press hue.
Bas aankhen screen par ek second ke liye ruki—phir hat gayi.
“Damage control,” PR head ne kaha. “Teen options. Apology note. Clarification interview. Temporary takedown.”
Kursi se koi jawaab nahi aaya.
Content editor ne khud hi bola, “Apology se hum weakness signal karenge.”
“Interview se narrative aur lamba hoga,” social media manager ne add kiya.
“Temporary takedown?” kisi ne poocha.
Us aurat ne apni heels ko floor par properly align kiya.
Phir calmly apni watch ki taraf dekha.
Time check kiya.
Bas.
Decision announce nahi hua.
Par sab samajh gaye.
PR head ne ek printout aage slide kiya. Neutral statement. Safe language.
Paper table par hi reh gaya.
Us par haath nahi rakha gaya.
Meeting khatam hui. Chairs peeche khiski. Log bahar nikle, already apne phones unlock karte hue.
Woh last uthi.
Blazer ko smooth kiya. Laptop uthaya. Phone uthaya.
Chair ko exactly usi jagah push kiya jahan se nikli thi.
Conference room se nikalte waqt heels ki awaaz corridor mein echo hui—measured, confident, bina kisi hurry ke.
Building ke bahar media vans already khadi thi. Camera flashes ready the. Ek reporter ne kaha, “Writer aa rahi hai kya?”
Lift ke andar cameras nahi the.
Mirror-finish walls mein uska reflection dikha—
straight spine, shoulders squared, chin slightly raised.
Lift neeche jaati rahi.
Uska expression nahi badla.
Ghar pahunch kar usne coat utara. Heels neatly side mein rakhi. Light sirf ek hi jalayi—desk lamp.
Table par newspaper pada tha. Culture section open tha.
“When darkness stops being metaphor.”
Paper uthaya gaya. Ek paragraph padha gaya.
Phir newspaper fold karke side mein rakh diya gaya.
Laptop khula.
Wahi file.
Wahi story.
Screen ki roshni uske chehre par padi—clean, controlled. Cursor title ke neeche blink kar raha tha.
Psycho Lovers
Keyboard par ungliyan aayi.
Ek second ke liye ruki.
Koi edit nahi hua.
Koi line soft nahi ki gayi.
Laptop band kar diya gaya.
Agli subah team ne dekha—
Story ke end mein likha tha:
“This story does not seek your comfort.”
Us line ke baad backlash aur tez ho gaya.
Kisi ne likha—
“She isn’t explaining herself.”
“That’s intentional.”
Aur kisi aur ne—
“That’s terrifying.”
stay tunned next update soon
Episode 3: The violence of quite
Subah ke dus baje the, aur media floor already overload ho chuka tha.Large screens par headlines loop ho rahe the—
same words, different fonts.
“ROMANTICIZING OBSESSION?”
“DARK FICTION OR DANGEROUS FANTASY?”
“WRITER UNDER FIRE”
Conference room ke glass walls ke andar thandi white light thi. AC thoda zyada chal raha tha. Table ke beech ek laptop open tha—comment section scroll ho raha tha, rukne ka naam nahi le raha tha.
“This is unhealthy.”
“This isn’t love, this is manipulation.”
“Who writes this and sleeps at night?”
“Someone check the author.”
Social media manager ne mouse chhod diya.
“Tone shift ho gaya hai,” usne kaha. “Yeh sirf critique nahi hai.”
PR head ne pen ko ungliyon ke beech ghumaya. “Moral outrage zyada der chalta hai.”
Content editor ne screen se nazar hatai. “Par iss baar log kahani se zyada writer ko dissect kar rahe hain.”
Table ke kone par ek kursi thi.
Wahan baithi aurat meeting ka centre nahi thi—
phir bhi saari baat usi ke around ghoom rahi thi.
Woh black fitted blazer mein thi. Andar crisp, high-neck top. Slim trousers, sharply pressed. Pairon mein high heels—pointed, steady, bilkul silent nahi par noticeable. Baal neatly pulled back, jawline clear. Makeup minimal par intentional—defined eyes, neutral lips.
Jab woh chair se thoda sa aage jhuki, heels ne halki si awaaz ki.
Room ek pal ke liye aur shaant ho gaya.
Uske saamne laptop band tha.
Phone screen down.
Jab screen par personal comments aaye, kisi ne reflexively uski taraf dekha.
Uske chehre par koi visible discomfort nahi tha.
Na eyebrows uthi. Na lips press hue.
Bas aankhen screen par ek second ke liye ruki—phir hat gayi.
“Damage control,” PR head ne kaha. “Teen options. Apology note. Clarification interview. Temporary takedown.”
Kursi se koi jawaab nahi aaya.
Content editor ne khud hi bola, “Apology se hum weakness signal karenge.”
“Interview se narrative aur lamba hoga,” social media manager ne add kiya.
“Temporary takedown?” kisi ne poocha.
Us aurat ne apni heels ko floor par properly align kiya.
Phir calmly apni watch ki taraf dekha.
Time check kiya.
Bas.
Decision announce nahi hua.
Par sab samajh gaye.
PR head ne ek printout aage slide kiya. Neutral statement. Safe language.
Paper table par hi reh gaya.
Us par haath nahi rakha gaya.
Meeting khatam hui. Chairs peeche khiski. Log bahar nikle, already apne phones unlock karte hue.
Woh last uthi.
Blazer ko smooth kiya. Laptop uthaya. Phone uthaya.
Chair ko exactly usi jagah push kiya jahan se nikli thi.
Conference room se nikalte waqt heels ki awaaz corridor mein echo hui—measured, confident, bina kisi hurry ke.
Building ke bahar media vans already khadi thi. Camera flashes ready the. Ek reporter ne kaha, “Writer aa rahi hai kya?”
Lift ke andar cameras nahi the.
Mirror-finish walls mein uska reflection dikha—
straight spine, shoulders squared, chin slightly raised.
Lift neeche jaati rahi.
Uska expression nahi badla.
Ghar pahunch kar usne coat utara. Heels neatly side mein rakhi. Light sirf ek hi jalayi—desk lamp.
Table par newspaper pada tha. Culture section open tha.
“When darkness stops being metaphor.”
Paper uthaya gaya. Ek paragraph padha gaya.
Phir newspaper fold karke side mein rakh diya gaya.
Laptop khula.
Wahi file.
Wahi story.
Screen ki roshni uske chehre par padi—clean, controlled. Cursor title ke neeche blink kar raha tha.
Psycho Lovers
Keyboard par ungliyan aayi.
Ek second ke liye ruki.
Koi edit nahi hua.
Koi line soft nahi ki gayi.
Laptop band kar diya gaya.
Agli subah team ne dekha—
- No apology post
- No interview
- No takedown
Story ke end mein likha tha:
“This story does not seek your comfort.”
Us line ke baad backlash aur tez ho gaya.
Kisi ne likha—
“She isn’t explaining herself.”
“That’s intentional.”
Aur kisi aur ne—
“That’s terrifying.”
stay tunned next update soon
Last edited:
- 3,061
- 945
- 114
thnks a lotSimple writing, but deep impact. Episode quietly shows Arnav’s need for control through small details. No drama, yet the tension is always there. The silent obsession and That nameless presence adds mystery and keeps the reader thinking. Curious to see what breaks when control starts slipping....
Good luck
keep supporting
next update posted do check
hhhhmmmm Arnav kaafi complicated character hai.... apni hi feelings ki kashmakash mein uljha...
kabhi lagta hai ke uska motive uski thoughts clear hai ke usey kya karna hai ya wo kya kar raha hai... lekin kabhi lagta hai ke wo bhi thoda uljha hua hai kisi chiz ko lekar... aur ye to pakka hai
Aur last mein jo line likhi hai ..
... waaahhh
- 3,061
- 945
- 114
hmm Arnav sudden changes ke karan chizo ko clear nhi kr pa rha
thnka a lotAur last mein jo line likhi hai ..
i am just trying to keep it intense and interesting
keep supporting
Such a strong update.. another character with a defined and strong personality.. ('apparently'.. for now? maybe) --- "Woman of few words"(sunday special)
Episode 3: The violence of quite
Subah ke dus baje the, aur media floor already overload ho chuka tha.
Large screens par headlines loop ho rahe the—
same words, different fonts.
“ROMANTICIZING OBSESSION?”
“DARK FICTION OR DANGEROUS FANTASY?”
“WRITER UNDER FIRE”
Conference room ke glass walls ke andar thandi white light thi. AC thoda zyada chal raha tha. Table ke beech ek laptop open tha—comment section scroll ho raha tha, rukne ka naam nahi le raha tha.
“This is unhealthy.”
“This isn’t love, this is manipulation.”
“Who writes this and sleeps at night?”
“Someone check the author.”
Social media manager ne mouse chhod diya.
“Tone shift ho gaya hai,” usne kaha. “Yeh sirf critique nahi hai.”
PR head ne pen ko ungliyon ke beech ghumaya. “Moral outrage zyada der chalta hai.”
Content editor ne screen se nazar hatai. “Par iss baar log kahani se zyada writer ko dissect kar rahe hain.”
Table ke kone par ek kursi thi.
Wahan baithi aurat meeting ka centre nahi thi—
phir bhi saari baat usi ke around ghoom rahi thi.
Woh black fitted blazer mein thi. Andar crisp, high-neck top. Slim trousers, sharply pressed. Pairon mein high heels—pointed, steady, bilkul silent nahi par noticeable. Baal neatly pulled back, jawline clear. Makeup minimal par intentional—defined eyes, neutral lips.
Jab woh chair se thoda sa aage jhuki, heels ne halki si awaaz ki.
Room ek pal ke liye aur shaant ho gaya.
Uske saamne laptop band tha.
Phone screen down.
Jab screen par personal comments aaye, kisi ne reflexively uski taraf dekha.
Uske chehre par koi visible discomfort nahi tha.
Na eyebrows uthi. Na lips press hue.
Bas aankhen screen par ek second ke liye ruki—phir hat gayi.
“Damage control,” PR head ne kaha. “Teen options. Apology note. Clarification interview. Temporary takedown.”
Kursi se koi jawaab nahi aaya.
Content editor ne khud hi bola, “Apology se hum weakness signal karenge.”
“Interview se narrative aur lamba hoga,” social media manager ne add kiya.
“Temporary takedown?” kisi ne poocha.
Us aurat ne apni heels ko floor par properly align kiya.
Phir calmly apni watch ki taraf dekha.
Time check kiya.
Bas.
Decision announce nahi hua.
Par sab samajh gaye.
PR head ne ek printout aage slide kiya. Neutral statement. Safe language.
Paper table par hi reh gaya.
Us par haath nahi rakha gaya.
Meeting khatam hui. Chairs peeche khiski. Log bahar nikle, already apne phones unlock karte hue.
Woh last uthi.
Blazer ko smooth kiya. Laptop uthaya. Phone uthaya.
Chair ko exactly usi jagah push kiya jahan se nikli thi.
Conference room se nikalte waqt heels ki awaaz corridor mein echo hui—measured, confident, bina kisi hurry ke.
Building ke bahar media vans already khadi thi. Camera flashes ready the. Ek reporter ne kaha, “Writer aa rahi hai kya?”
Lift ke andar cameras nahi the.
Mirror-finish walls mein uska reflection dikha—
straight spine, shoulders squared, chin slightly raised.
Lift neeche jaati rahi.
Uska expression nahi badla.
Ghar pahunch kar usne coat utara. Heels neatly side mein rakhi. Light sirf ek hi jalayi—desk lamp.
Table par newspaper pada tha. Culture section open tha.
“When darkness stops being metaphor.”
Paper uthaya gaya. Ek paragraph padha gaya.
Phir newspaper fold karke side mein rakh diya gaya.
Laptop khula.
Wahi file.
Wahi story.
Screen ki roshni uske chehre par padi—clean, controlled. Cursor title ke neeche blink kar raha tha.
Psycho Lovers
Keyboard par ungliyan aayi.
Ek second ke liye ruki.
Koi edit nahi hua.
Koi line soft nahi ki gayi.
Laptop band kar diya gaya.
Agli subah team ne dekha—
Bas website par ek nayi line.
- No apology post
- No interview
- No takedown
Story ke end mein likha tha:
“This story does not seek your comfort.”
Us line ke baad backlash aur tez ho gaya.
Kisi ne likha—
“She isn’t explaining herself.”
“That’s intentional.”
Aur kisi aur ne—
“That’s terrifying.”
stay tunned next update soon
Go on Raghvi....
- 3,061
- 945
- 114
- 3,061
- 945
- 114
I hope story disappointing nahi hogi
Next update postedCongratulations and best of luck
और जो भी लिखना, व्यूज और रिव्यूज के चक्कर में मत लिखना, बस दिल से लिखना।
