"My... story?" I repeated, my face scrunching up in confusion like I'd just been asked to explain quantum physics. The chaos of the night market—vendors yelling, food sizzling, people chattering—faded into a dull hum as I stared at the biker in front of me. Raghu, he'd said his name was. He had this grin on his face, like he knew something I didn't, and it was equal parts intriguing and irritating.

Funny thing was, his name felt... familiar. Like I'd heard it before, maybe in a dream or a half-remembered conversation. But before I could dig into that thought, he waved it off like it was nothing.

"Nothing important. Just a figure of speech," he said, his voice deep and smooth, the kind that could probably sell you a used car and make you feel good about it. He gestured around us like he was presenting a prize on a game show. "Welcome to Chandrapuri, the city of tales."

Chandrapuri. The name pinged something in the back of my mind, like a faint echo. But before I could grab onto it, it slipped away, leaving me more confused than ever. The air was thick with the smell of spices, incense, and—weirdly enough—motor oil, which I assumed was coming from Raghu. It was a strange combo, but somehow it worked. Or maybe I was just lightheaded from whatever the hell was happening.

"Chandrapuri? Never heard of it," I said, trying to sound calm but probably failing miserably. "Where even is this place? Please tell me it's somewhere near Suryapuram."

He smirked, and damn, that dimple in his left cheek should've come with a warning label. I swear, my brain short-circuited for a second. But then he opened his mouth, and the spell was broken.

"Ah, the classic 'where am I' moment," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'd offer you a map, but I think that near-death experience on the highway should've made it clear we're not in Saravana Bhavan anymore, Kannamma."

I glared at him. "First of all, don't call me Kannamma. Second, what the hell is going on? Who were those people chasing us? And how did I even get here? I was just in my room, minding my own business, and now I'm... wherever this is!"

Raghu leaned casually against his bike, arms crossed, looking like he'd just stepped out of some action movie. The streetlights highlighted his sharp jawline and the faint stubble on his chin. Even the small scar on his right knuckle seemed like it had a story. But I wasn't about to ask. I had bigger problems.

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who just appeared out of nowhere," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness. His eyes kept darting around, like he was expecting trouble to pop out of the shadows any second.

"Yeah, well, maybe because I appeared out of nowhere!" I shot back, throwing my hands up. "This isn't exactly a normal Tuesday for me, you know."

He chuckled, but it was short-lived. In the distance, a dog barked, and Raghu's head snapped toward the sound. For a second, he looked like a predator ready to strike. But then he relaxed, though I could tell he was still on edge.

"Look," he said, turning back to me, "you're here because you need to be. And those guys chasing us? They're not exactly the welcoming committee. So, unless you want to stick around and find out what they want, I suggest we move."

"That doesn't explain anything!" I exclaimed, my voice rising. A few people nearby turned to stare, and Raghu smoothly stepped closer, shielding me from their curious looks.

"I was just in my room, and then suddenly I was on that highway, and now I'm here in this... Chandrapuri place. None of this makes sense!" I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair.

Raghu raised an eyebrow, looking equal parts amused and exasperated. "Life rarely makes sense. But for now, let's focus on keeping your average self and my precious self safe. Those SUVs might come back, and I'd rather not stick around to find out what they want."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you ever listen to yourself? You sound like a bad action movie."

He grinned. "Maybe I am. But you're the one who showed up in the middle of it."

I groaned. "Do you have a phone? I need to call home."

"Oh yes," he said, pulling out his phone and handing it to me like he was doing me the biggest favor.

I grabbed it, hope surging through me. Finally, I was going to get some answers. But as soon as I looked at the screen, my hopes crashed and burned. The phone was off.

I glared at him. "It's switched off."

He raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Of course it is. Do you think I wouldn't know that?"

"Then why did you give it to me?" I asked, exasperated.

"You asked for a phone," he replied with a shrug. "Didn't clarify switched on or off. Blame your unclear instructions."

I shoved the phone back at him, frustration boiling over. "You're impossible."

"Impossible? No. Annoying? Absolutely," he said with a smirk.

Before I could fire back, the sound of screeching tires cut through the night. Raghu's entire demeanor changed in an instant. His easy smile vanished, replaced by a look of intense focus. He grabbed my arm, his grip firm but not painful, and pulled me closer.

"Come on," he said, his voice low and urgent. "My place isn't far from here. We'll be safer there."

I hesitated, taking a step back. "No way! I don't know you or this place. Why should I trust you?"

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Would you prefer to stay out here on the street? Maybe we could find you a nice cardboard box to sleep in. I hear they're quite cozy this time of year."

I frowned, crossing my arms. "That's not funny. This is serious."

"You're right, it is serious," he replied, his tone softening slightly. "But maybe because if I hadn't made that 'heroic entry' on my bike and gotten you out of that chase, you'd probably be a lost soul roaming the streets right now? Or worse?"

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped. He had a point. Why would he save me if he wanted to harm me? Still, trusting a stranger in a strange place felt like the plot of every horror movie ever made.

I've read enough books and watched enough movies to know that trusting a stranger with zero backup plan is basically asking for a one-way ticket to *Dumb Decisions Land*. And trust me, I wasn't about to become the next cautionary tale. So, no, Raghu, I'm not blindly following you into your creepy lair without some insurance. Call me paranoid, but I'd rather be paranoid than dead.

I bit my lip, weighing his words. Sure, he had a point—he *had* saved me from whatever that highway chaos was. But still, my gut was screaming, *"Girl, don't do it!"* And then, as if he could read my mind (which was starting to freak me out), Raghu glanced around the colony like he was checking for spies. What's his deal? Is he secretly in the mafia or something?

Before I could ask, he did something that made my brain short-circuit. In one smooth motion, he pulled out a gun from the back of his jacket. A *gun*. Like, an actual, real-life, could-kill-you-in-one-shot gun.

"Oh, *f*ck," I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes were probably the size of saucers at this point. "What the *hell* are you doing with a gun? Are you a serial killer? A hitman? A really over-prepared Boy Scout?"

He shushed me, stepping closer, and for a second, I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest. "It's loaded," he said, holding it out to me like he was offering me a cup of tea. The gun felt heavy in my hand, the cold metal making it very clear that this wasn't a prop. "You can shoot me the moment you feel unsafe with me."

I stared at the gun, then at him, then back at the gun. My brain was doing somersaults. On one hand, this was the most insane thing anyone had ever done to gain my trust. On the other hand... it kind of worked? I mean, who hands over a loaded gun to someone they're planning to murder? That's like giving your victim the keys to your getaway car.

But still. *Why* did he have a gun in the first place? My inner detective was screaming for answers.

"Okay, but why are you carrying a gun?" I asked, my voice shaky. "Are you a criminal? Is your life in danger? Do you even know how to use this thing? Do you have a license? What model is this? Is it legal? Are *you* legal?"

He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Stop asking so many questions, lady. Just take the gun and use it if you need to. Otherwise, I'm leaving you here to find a cozy spot with the stray dogs for the night."

The thought of spending the night on the streets of this weird, unfamiliar place sent a chill down my spine. Fine, Raghu, you win this round. I'll go with you, but only because I need a charger and a way to contact someone who can get me out of this mess. And maybe a snack. I was starving.

With trembling hands, I took the gun, quickly tucking it against my body so no one would see it. The last thing I needed was a bunch of strangers freaking out because I was walking around with a weapon. My life was already a thriller movie; I didn't need to add *public panic* to the plot.

Raghu sighed dramatically, like he was the one dealing with all the inconvenience. "Great. Now I'm walking around with an armed, jumpy stranger. This day just keeps getting better."

We started walking, his stride confident and purposeful, while I trailed behind like a nervous sidekick. The streets were still alive with activity—vendors calling out, kids running around, the smell of street food wafting through the air. It was all so... normal. Except for the fact that I was carrying a gun and following a guy who might be a criminal. Totally normal.

We turned down a quieter lane, the noise of the main street fading behind us. Raghu stopped in front of a modest two-story house with pale yellow walls. It looked... cozy. Like the kind of place you'd see in a feel-good movie about small-town life. He unlocked the gate and gestured for me to go inside.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said, his tone dripping with irony. "It's not much, but it's home."

I stepped inside, still clutching the gun like my life depended on it (which, let's be honest, it might). The living room was small but tidy, with a plush sofa, a coffee table, and a few books scattered around. It was... nice. Not what I expected from a guy who carries a gun and rides a motorcycle.

"Make yourself comfortable," Raghu said, gesturing to the sofa. "We have a lot to talk about."

I sat down, the gun still in my hand, as Raghu moved around the room, locking doors and drawing curtains. He plugged his phone into a charger, which gave me a tiny glimmer of hope. Maybe I could use it later to call for help. Assuming he didn't turn out to be a serial killer, of course.

"So," I said, trying to sound calm but probably failing, "are you going to explain what's going on now? How I ended up here in... Chandrapuri, was it?"

"Wait a moment," he said, disappearing into what I assumed was the kitchen. I tensed up, my grip on the gun tightening. What if he was getting a knife? Or poison? Or worse, *pineapple pizza*?

He came back with two bottles of water, handing one to me. "Here, take this."

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

That was a lie. I was so thirsty. But what if the water was spiked? I couldn't risk it. Not when I had a gun and a sliver of control over this insane situation.

Raghu raised an eyebrow but didn't push it. He sat down across from me, taking a long sip from his bottle. I watched him carefully, trying to figure out what his deal was. Why was he helping me? What did he want? And why did he keep calling me Kannamma like we were in some cheesy rom-com?

"Oh, Kannamma," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I think you know more about this place than you realize. After all, you're the one who created it."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. Created it? What was he talking about? My mind raced, trying to make sense of what he'd just said. And then it hit me—Chandrapuri. The name of the city in my unfinished novel. The streets, the colony, even Raghu himself... it all felt eerily familiar, like I'd written it all before.

But that was impossible, right? How could a fictional place I'd dreamed up suddenly become real? And yet, as I looked around the room, taking in every detail, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd described this very scene before.

The room seemed to spin around me as the implications of Raghu's words sank in. My grip tightened on the gun, its weight a stark reminder of the bizarre reality I found myself in.

"What exactly have I gotten myself into?" I whispered, more to myself than to Raghu.

He gave me a knowing smile, both mysterious and slightly mischievous. "That's the question we're here to figure out."

Great. Just great. My life had officially turned into a plot twist, and I wasn't sure if I was the heroine or the side character who dies in the second act. Either way, I was in way over my head.