For someone who had just yanked me out of a near-death experience and handed me a loaded gun like it was a party favor, Raghu seemed way too relaxed. Either he was a master of keeping his cool, or this was all some elaborate act. Honestly, I wasn't sure which option was more terrifying.

"Comfortable?" he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was casual, but his eyes were sharp, scanning me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

"Comfortable isn't exactly the word I'd use," I said, rolling my eyes. "But sure, let's call this... better than the streets. Barely."

Raghu chuckled softly, running a hand through his messy hair. The movement was so effortless, like he'd done it a thousand times before. Probably had.

"Fair enough. Now, tell me... what's the last thing you remember before ending up on that highway?"

I hesitated, my mind scrambling to piece together the fragments. My grandparents' house. The soft hum of the ceiling fan in my room. My grandmother's voice calling out to me as I closed the door. My desk, cluttered with notebooks and pens. And then... nothing. Just a void.

"I was in my room," I said slowly, trying to connect the dots. "Working on one of my unfinished stories. And then suddenly, I was in the middle of the road, about to be run over by an SUV. Fun times."

Raghu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "Hmm. Conveniently forgettable, isn't it?"

"Convenient?" My irritation flared. "Do you think I enjoy not knowing how I got here?"

"Relax, Kannamma," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. The corners of his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh. "Just trying to figure out if you're here by accident or... design."

"Design?" I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, pushing off the wall and starting to pace. Slow, deliberate steps, like he was searching for the right words. "This place... Chandrapuri... isn't on any map you'll find. People don't just stumble in. If you're here, it's because there's a reason. And usually, it's not a good one."

A shiver ran down my spine. "Great. So, what are you? Some kind of guardian of this... off-the-grid city?"

He smirked, those damn dimples making an appearance. "More like a reluctant tour guide. And, lucky you, I'm all yours."

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "If you're going to irritate me with your filmy dialogues, I better shoot you right now and get rid of you." Without thinking, I pointed the gun at him, my finger resting lightly on the trigger.

Raghu didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, resting one arm on the worn-out sofa beside me. His veins stood out along his forearm, and for a brief second, my eyes flickered to them before I caught myself and snapped back to his face. His gaze was locked onto mine, steady and unwavering.

"You want answers, Aarushi? Brace yourself. They're going to sound crazy." His voice was low, almost intimate, like he was sharing a secret.

"Crazy?" I let out a humorless laugh. "I just got dropped into a city I've never heard of, survived a near-death experience, and am now sitting here with someone who apparently knows more about me than I do. Hit me. I'm ready for anything."

Raghu studied me, as if weighing whether to tell me the whole truth or let me figure it out the hard way. Finally, he exhaled and spoke.

"You're not in the real world anymore, Kannamma."

I blinked, waiting for the punchline. It didn't come.

I let out a laugh, but it was forced. "Okay, sure. What next? You're going to tell me I'm in a dream? Or maybe the Matrix? And you're the superhero?"

He didn't laugh.

"This isn't a dream. It's not the Matrix. It's your world."

"My world?" The words felt foreign, absurd. "What does that even mean?"

Raghu pushed off the armrest, resuming his slow, restless pacing. "It means that this place... Chandrapuri, me, and everything you've seen since you got here... it's all a work of fiction. And the twist? You're the one who wrote it."

The room seemed to tilt. My heartbeat drummed in my ears as his words sank in.

"I... I wrote this?" I stammered. "What are you saying... this can't be..."

"Yes," he said simply, turning to face me. "You're not just some random visitor here, Aarushi. You're the author of this world. Every street, every building, every person... you created it all."

I shook my head, laughing nervously. "You're messing with me. This is some kind of elaborate joke, right? Because if it is, it's not funny."

Raghu's expression didn't waver.

"You think I'm joking?" He arched an eyebrow, challenging me. "Think about it. The details here... the people, the places... they're all fragments of your imagination, brought to life. And the reason you're here? It has everything to do with that pen you stole from your grandfather's comic room."

A chill ran down my spine. The pen.

I could almost feel its weight in my hand. See its intricate design... the gold accents, the carved initials. But wait—how did he know about something only I was aware of?

My breath hitched. "The pen?" I whispered.

Raghu nodded, his voice gentler now. "It's not just a pen, Aarushi. It's something much more. A bridge between worlds. When you used it to write your unfinished novel, it didn't just help you create... it pulled you in."

My head spun as memories flooded back—late nights at my desk, the glow of my laptop screen, the frustration of writer's block, the pen gliding over paper in a desperate attempt to revive a story I had abandoned.

"Wait," my voice trembled. "You're saying I wrote myself into my own story?"

"Exactly," he said, watching me closely. "And now you're here, living it."

The weight of his words crashed down on me. My fingers dug into the fabric of the couch. I looked up at him, my voice barely a whisper.

"And you? You're... one of my characters?"

Raghu tilted his head, a small, almost sad smile playing on his lips. "I'm the character, Aarushi. The main one. The hero in your story."

A lump formed in my throat. Not the metaphorical kind you get when you're watching a sad movie or eating a dry sandwich. No, this was the kind that felt like I'd accidentally swallowed a golf ball and it was now lodged somewhere between my esophagus and my dignity. I stared at Raghu....'my' Raghu, the one I'd spent months crafting, tweaking, and occasionally yelling at when his dialogue refused to cooperate. 

He wasn't supposed to be real. He was supposed to be a figment of my over-caffeinated imagination, a collection of words on a screen, a character who existed solely to make my novel less terrible. And yet, here he was, standing in front of me, solid, undeniable, and annoyingly handsome.

"This can't be happening," I muttered, burying my face in my hands. "I'm hallucinating. This is what happens when you skip breakfast and mainline espresso for six hours straight. I've finally broken my brain."

"It 'is' happening," Raghu said, his voice soft but firm, like a therapist who's about to drop a truth bomb you're not ready to hear. "And, just so you know, you're not hallucinating. Trust me, if you were, It would have been hard for you to resist me"

I peeked through my fingers. "You're not helping."

"I'm not here to help," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall like he owned the place. Which, technically, he kind of did, since I'd created him. "I'm here to tell you that you've got a bigger problem than your caffeine addiction."

I dropped my hands and glared at him. "Oh, really? Bigger than the fact that my fictional character is now standing in my living room, judging my life choices? Please, enlighten me."

Raghu raised an eyebrow, and I swear, if he'd had a clipboard, he would've been tapping it impatiently. "The people here—in this world you created—they're not just props in your story, Aarushi. They're not here to look pretty and spout your half-baked philosophical musings. They have lives. Dreams. Fears. And most of them? They're stuck. Because you never finished the novel."

My heart sank. "What do you mean, 'stuck'?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair—a habit I'd given him in Chapter Three because I thought it made him look brooding and mysterious. Now it just made him look like he was about to lecture me. "You left us in limbo. No endings. No closure. Just... chaos. The plot holes are big enough to drive a truck through, and the characters are running around like headless chickens. And now that you're here, it's up to you to fix it."

I blinked at him. "Wait, I'm here? As in, I'm in the novel?"

"Congratulations," he said dryly. "You've officially entered the world you created. Hope you packed a toothbrush."

I groaned, sinking onto the couch. "This is a nightmare. I didn't sign up for this. I just wanted to write a book, maybe get a few good reviews, and retire to a life of obscurity and cheap wine."

"Well, too bad," Raghu said, plopping down next to me. "You're here now, and you've got a job to do. Starting with finding the pen."

I frowned. "What pen?"

"The one you used to write the novel," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The one that can rewrite this mess and give everyone a proper ending. Including me."

I stared at him. "You're kidding, right? This is some kind of twisted joke? A prank? Did my friends put you up to this?"

Raghu gave me a look that could've melted steel. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. He had a point. He didn't look like he was kidding. He looked like he was about two seconds away from dragging me out the door and into whatever chaotic mess I'd left behind in my unfinished novel.

"Fine," I said, throwing up my hands. "Where's the pen now?"

Raghu's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "That's the million-dollar question, Kannamma. And finding it won't be easy. But one thing's for sure, you're going to need my help."

I groaned again, louder this time. "Of course I am. Because why wouldn't I need the help of the guy I literally made up?"

"Exactly," he said, grinning. "Now we're talking."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. My fear hadn't disappeared—if anything, it had multiplied—but something else stirred beneath it. Determination. Or maybe it was just indigestion. Either way, I knew I didn't have a choice.

"Alright," I said, standing up. "Let's find this stupid pen. But if I die in some ridiculous plot twist, I'm haunting you."

Raghu's smile widened, his dimples flashing in a way that was both infuriating and annoyingly charming. "Deal. Now, let's go. We've got a world to save."

"And whose fault is that?" I muttered as I followed him out the door.

"Yours," he called over his shoulder, not missing a beat. "But don't worry. I'll make sure you don't screw it up this time."

"Gee, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "I feel so much better now."

*******************

A/N 

As you all can see, I've changed the Male lead name since i felt it's too similar with Suryapuram(Village name) and Raghu though has the same meaning, yet the wording falls different here so I'm thinking to go ahead with this name only.