The Forbidden Manuscript : a Villain's Tale

Chapter 1: The Calm Before the Storm

Nandini Verma's heart fluttered with a rare sense of joy as she stepped out of the publishing company’s office. At 18, she had just taken a monumental step toward her dream. The meeting with the publisher had gone far better than she had imagined, thanks to the help of her friend’s father, who worked there and believed in her talent. Her first story, a tale woven with passion, betrayal, and dark intrigue, was finally going to be published.

The sky overhead was a canvas of deepening grey, heavy with the promise of rain. The air was thick with anticipation, much like Nandini’s own heart. She clutched her bag close, protecting the precious manuscript inside as she made her way down the bustling street. Each step was lighter than the last, her usual dread of returning home momentarily forgotten.

Nandini’s home was not a place of comfort or refuge. It was a house filled with the shadows of fear and the echoes of her father’s rage. He was a man whose temper flared unpredictably, and whose fists often followed. She had learned to navigate his moods like one would a minefield, each day a cautious dance to avoid an explosion.

But today was different. Today, she had a secret, a spark of happiness she could hold close, even in the darkest corners of her mind. She hadn’t told her father about the book, about her dreams of becoming a writer. It was her own private rebellion, a way to cling to a sliver of hope in a life otherwise marred by his cruelty.

As she walked, the wind picked up, rustling the trees lining the street and sending a shiver down her spine. She quickened her pace, eager to reach the dubious safety of her room before the skies opened up. The first drops of rain began to fall, gentle at first, then more insistent, like the universe was mirroring her own anxious excitement.

Nandini finally reached her house, a modest, weathered building that stood in stark contrast to the brightness of her dreams. She slipped inside quietly, hoping to avoid her father’s notice. The house was unusually silent, the air thick with the calm before the storm. She hurried to her room, her sanctuary, where she could finally exhale and dream of a future that felt just within reach.

Unbeknownst to her, the night held more than just a thunderstorm. It was a night that would change everything, a night where reality would blur with the fiction she had so meticulously crafted. As Nandini settled onto her bed, the manuscript held close to her heart, she had no inkling of the dark forces about to be unleashed, nor the chain of events that would propel her into a future as tumultuous as the storm brewing outside.

Nandini drifted into a fitful sleep, the manuscript clutched tightly against her chest. Suddenly, the shattering of glass jolted her awake. Her heart pounded in her ears as she sat up, straining to listen. It was unusual for any noise to disturb the house at this hour; her father would have passed out from drinking by now.

She slipped out of bed, her bare feet silent on the cold floor as she crept towards the source of the noise. The living room was dark, and there was no sign of movement. But then she saw it – a trail of blood on the floor, glistening in the dim light.

Nandini’s breath caught in her throat as she followed the crimson trail, her pulse racing with fear and curiosity. The blood led her to the back garden, where the storm raged in full force. The rain had ceased momentarily, but the soil was wet, and the air crackled with the threat of more thunderstorms.

Her eyes widened as she saw her father in the garden, shoveling frantically, his movements erratic and clumsy. He was drunk, muttering incoherently to himself. Nandini strained to hear his words, dread pooling in her stomach as she stepped closer.

"She needs to go to her... She's all alone... Can't let her be alone anymore..." His voice was a slurred whisper, but the words made Nandini's blood run cold. He was talking to her mother. Her mother, who had died years ago.