Romance Psycho Lovers

[RagVi Singh]

Episode 15 posted.
Let me know — did it hit… or miss?

 

[RagVi Singh]

Outstanding...fully controlled writing

Thnks I hope u enjoyed it
Keep supporting

Arnav and Anamika me ek hi baat common hai—Control and Observation, Beshak dono ka profession alag hai but dono profession me yahi do baaten important hoti hain

Ab tak ki story me dono characters ki isi quality ko dikhaya hai aapne. I mean dono apne apne profession me kaise apna work kar rahe hain is par zyada zor diya hai.

Inhi quality ki wajah se dono apne apne profession me best hai. Voh aam logo se thode alg hai btwn Anamika ki personality ko me next episode me explore krrungi

Well, I am so excited to see what happened between both of them that led to Arnav's condition....I hope this will be revealed soon

Yess soon now story gonna pace up

 

[TheBlackBlood]

Same to same me bhi post karne wala tha, acha raha pahle dekh liya

Writer ki mehnat ka kuch to khayaal karo

 

[JarVyu]

Ms. writer do update index

 

[vihan27]

---

Episode 6: When Fiction Leaves the Room​

Arnav​

Case number file ke cover par abhi tak ink fresh thi.

Unnatural Death – Pending Classification

Arnav ne file uthayi. Is baar weight sirf kagaz ka nahi tha. Kuch aur bhi tha—ek familiarity jo professional nahi thi. Jaise koi pattern jo ab sirf aankhon se nahi, dimaag se chipak raha ho.

“Scene photos aa gayi hain,” junior ne kaha, USB desk par rakhte hue. “Room… clean hai. Too clean.”

Arnav ne kuch nahi bola.
USB plug ki.

Screen par pehli image khuli.

Bedroom.

White walls. Neutral lighting. Bed perfectly made—hospital corners tak precise. Curtains half-drawn. Floor par ek bhi random cheez nahi.

Suicide rooms aise nahi hote.

Suicide mess chhodta hai.
Emotion ya struggle ka.
Yahan dono absent the.

Next image.

Study table.

Laptop open. Screen on.

Text highlighted.

Arnav aage jhuk gaya.

“Control doesn’t arrive with force.
It arrives with permission.”

Uska jaw thoda tight ho gaya.

“Sir…” junior ne kaha, sentence poora nahi kar paaya.

“Story ka naam?” Arnav ne poocha.

Junior ne dheere se bola,
“Psycho Lovers.”

Ek second ke liye lab ki hum bhi loud lagne lagi.

Next photo:
Printer tray.

Same paragraph. Same highlight. Paper neatly aligned.

No suicide note.
No goodbye.

Bas yeh.

“Family bol rahi hai depression tha,” senior officer ne kaha. “Online content ka effect lagta hai.”

Influence.

Arnav ne dimaag mein word ko dissect kiya.
Influence chaotic hota hai.
Emotional hota hai.

Yeh room emotional nahi tha.
Yeh room obedient tha.

“Sir,” Arnav ne calmly kaha, “agar yeh influence hota, toh inconsistency hoti. Yahan behavior copy hua hai. Feeling nahi.”

Senior chup raha.

Arnav ne screen ki taraf dekha.
“Yeh rehearsal lagta hai.”

---

Anamika​

Anamika ne phone silent mode par rakha.

Table par coffee rakhi thi, par usne chhua bhi nahi. Liquid thanda ho raha tha—jaise sab kuch aur.

Usne news open nahi ki.
Usse headlines yaad the.

SECOND DEATH LINKED TO CONTROVERSIAL STORY
WHEN FICTION BECOMES INSTRUCTION

Instruction.

Uske lips ke kone par almost invisible curve aaya. Smile nahi. Recognition.

Log hamesha instruction aur observation ko confuse kar dete hain. Kyunki observation responsibility maangti hai—instruction blame allow karta hai.

Usne apni blazer ke sleeves smooth kiye. Black. Structured. Heels already pehne hue the, ghar ke andar bhi. Habit nahi—preparation.

Mirror ke saamne khade hoke usne apna chehra dekha.

No cracks.
No softness.

Good.

Usse pata tha woh dekhi ja rahi hai.
Log jab dekhna shuru kar dete hain, toh pattern dhoondhte hain. Aur jab pattern mil jaye, toh intention assume karte hain.

Intention sabse aasaan jhooth hota hai.

Usne apni notebook uthayi.
Wahi purani—jismein stories likhi jaati thi.

Aaj ek naya page khola.

Likha:

“They don’t want answers.
They want relief.”

Pen band.

---

Arnav​

Media pressure next din double ho gaya.

COPYCAT DEATH? AUTHOR UNDER WATCH

Arnav newsroom ka noise avoid kar raha tha. Uska focus file par tha.

Second death.
Same setup.
Same quiet.

Usne dono scenes ki photos side by side rakhi.

Same lighting temperature.
Same lack of disturbance.

Yeh coincidence nahi tha.

“Police officially writer ko question nahi karegi,” senior ne kaha. “Par monitoring shuru ho gayi hai.”

Monitoring.

Arnav ka naam list mein add ho gaya. Official reason: narrative pattern analysis.

Unofficially, woh sabse zyada invested tha.

Usne Anamika ke public clips dekhe.

Office entry.
Award night.
Panel discussion teasers.

Same walk.
Same heels.
Same pace.

No hesitation.

“Pressure mein log micro-expressions dikhate hain,” Arnav ne junior se kaha. “Yeh dikh nahi rahi.”

“Toh?” junior ne poocha.

“Toh ya toh woh emotionally detached hai,” Arnav bola, “ya control uski baseline state hai.”

---

Anamika​

Literature panel ke green room mein thandi hawa chal rahi thi.

Organizer nervous tha.
Volunteers extra polite.

“Ma’am, aap comfortable ho?” kisi ne poocha.

Anamika ne sirf haan mein sir hila diya.

Comfort irrelevant tha.

Stage par jaate waqt usne audience ko scan kiya. Phones. Whispers. Curiosity mixed with fear.

Fear interesting hota hai.
Fear honesty ke kareeb hota hai.

She sat. Hands folded. Spine straight.

Moderator ne sawaal poocha—creativity aur responsibility par.

Anamika ne mic uthaya.

“Stories behavior ko reflect karti hain,” usne calmly kaha. “Create nahi.”

Pause.

“Jo log apne actions ke liye permission dhoondh rahe hote hain, woh kahin na kahin language bhi dhoondh rahe hote hain.”

Audience uncomfortable ho gayi.

Good.

Front row mein ek aadmi phone se uski recording kar raha tha.
Uski nazar us par gayi.

Ek second.

No warning.
No challenge.

Bas acknowledgment.

I see you seeing me.

---

Arnav​

Arnav back row mein baitha tha.

Officially present nahi.
Unofficially fully alert.

Jab Anamika ki nazar audience mein ghumi aur ek second ke liye us par ruki, Arnav ne blink nahi kiya.

Usse laga jaise microscope ke neeche woh khud aa gaya ho.

She knows.

Usne note kiya—
no defensive gestures.
No throat clearing.
No rushed speech.

Pure control.

Us raat lab se update aaya.

Second victim ke blood samples mein sedative traces mile. Low dose. Consent ke saath diya gaya lagta tha.

Sedation fear ko manageable banata hai.

Arnav ne story ka highlighted line yaad ki:

“Control arrives with permission.”

Usne notebook mein likha:

• Victim cooperation is consistent
• Writer unaffected by outcome
• Silence maintained under scrutiny

Phir ruk gaya.

Aur likha:

• She anticipated this reaction

---

Anamika​

Raat ko ghar mein sirf ek lamp jal raha tha.

Anamika ne heels utari. Pair dard mein nahi the—control posture ka byproduct hota hai.

Laptop khola.

Wahi story.

Wahi lines.

Usne comments nahi dekhe. Kabhi nahi dekhti thi. Comments reaction hote hain. Reaction data nahi hota.

Usne ek naya document open nahi kiya.
Bas ek line likhi—apne liye.

“Silence needs maintenance.”

Usse pata tha investigation chalegi.
Log sawal poochhenge.
Kuch sach ke liye, zyada tar comfort ke liye.

Usne decide kar liya tha—
comfort dena uska kaam nahi hai.

---

Arnav​

Us raat Arnav ne Anamika ki website kholi.

Contact form.

Cursor message box mein blink kar raha tha.

Usne likha:

“Do you observe before you write,
or write so you don’t have to observe anymore?”

Send nahi kiya.

Kuch sawal pooche nahi jaate.
Sirf note kiye jaate hain.

Usne light off ki.

Do cheezein uske dimaag mein parallel chal rahi thi—

Ek case jo suicide nahi lag raha tha.
Aur ek writer jo panic nahi kar rahi thi.

Dono controlled the.
Dono silent the.

Aur dono
usse disturb kar rahe the.

---

Anamika (Ending POV)​

Sone se pehle Anamika ne phone uthaya.

No messages.
No missed calls.

Perfect.

Usne diary band ki.
Lights off ki.

Andhere mein usne socha—

Log samajhte hain darkness loud hoti hai.
Par asli darkness
discipline mein hoti hai.

Aur discipline
kabhi bhi accident nahi hota.

---

word count~2k
stay tuned for next update

Ragvi Writing bahut controlled aur sharp hai bilkul Tumhari story ke characters ki tarah. Arnav ka investigator mind aur Anamika ki unsettling calmness ek silent chess game jaisa feel deti hai, jahan moves kam aur impact zyada hai aur Sabse strong part hai control vs influence ka theme. Suicide ko copycat bolna easy hai, par yahan jo dikhaya gaya hai woh emotion nahi, obedience hai—yeh idea genuinely disturbing hai. Room ka “too clean” hona, repeated patterns, sedative ka hint ye sab kuch quietly scream karta hai ki yeh accident ya impulse nahi tha.

Anamika ka character highlight hai no panic, no justification, sirf discipline aur awareness. Uski lines short hain par heavy hai jaise “Silence needs maintenance.” Arnav aur Anamika ke beech ka unspoken tension, especially panel scene mein eye contact, story ko next level par le jaata hai.

Waiting for next babe

 

[RagVi Singh]

Ms. writer do update index

I don't know why but I can't update index

 

[RagVi Singh]

Ragvi Writing bahut controlled aur sharp hai bilkul Tumhari story ke characters ki tarah. Arnav ka investigator mind aur Anamika ki unsettling calmness ek silent chess game jaisa feel deti hai, jahan moves kam aur impact zyada hai aur Sabse strong part hai control vs influence ka theme.

I try to keep suspense in story so my hands r tight

Suicide ko copycat bolna easy hai, par yahan jo dikhaya gaya hai woh emotion nahi, obedience hai—yeh idea genuinely disturbing hai. Room ka “too clean” hona, repeated patterns, sedative ka hint ye sab kuch quietly scream karta hai ki yeh accident ya impulse nahi tha.

Suicide ka repeatedly hona Anamika ko spot krta hai and Yeh suicide hai ya kuch aur yeh aage jaldi reveal hoga

Anamika ka character highlight hai no panic, no justification, sirf discipline aur awareness.

Mene phle bhi bataya tha Anamika ka role commanding and strong hai

Uski lines short hain par heavy hai jaise “Silence needs maintenance.” Arnav aur Anamika ke beech ka unspoken tension, especially panel scene mein eye contact, story ko next level par le jaata hai.

Hehehe wait for more tension between them

Waiting for next babe

Thanks a lot
Keep supporting
Next update soon

 

[RagVi Singh]

---

EPISODE 7: SHE DOESN’T FLINCH​

Yeh second publishing event tha.

Pehla event loud tha — accusations, outrage, social media ka hungama. Log cheekh rahe the, judge kar rahe the, demand kar rahe the.
Par yeh wala event zyada khatarnaak tha.

Kyuki yahan log chup the.

Hall poori tarah bhara nahi tha, par jo aaye the woh sirf dekhne nahi aaye the. Kuch usse girte hue dekhna chahte the. Kuch yeh samajhna chahte the ki koi itna shaant kaise reh sakta hai jab poori duniya uske khilaaf khadi ho. Aur kuch… bas curious the.

Backstage, Anamika mirror ke saamne khadi thi.

Noise bahar tha, par us tak nahi pahunch raha tha.

She wore black — dramatic nahi, loud nahi. Yeh black sharp tha, intentional tha. Fitted dress, clean neckline, knee ke thoda neeche khatam hoti hui. Ek precise slit, jo attention maangta nahi tha, bas allow karta tha. High heels, thin aur uncompromising. Heels jo chalne mein awaaz karti hain, kyunki woh chahti thi ki log uski presence mehsoos karein.

Hair loose tha, par wild nahi. Trained. Jaise har strand ko pata ho ki usse kahan rukna hai. Makeup minimal tha, par lips dark the — contrast ke liye nahi, authority ke liye.

Mirror mein uska chehra bilkul shaant tha.

Darr nahi tha.
Excitement bhi nahi.

Bas interest.

Uski manager paas khadi thi, tablet haath mein, aankhon mein tension clear thi.
“Anamika,” usne dheere se kaha, “is crowd ka mood pehle se decide lag raha hai. Agar aaj thoda neutral—”

Anamika ne mirror se nazar nahi hataayi.

“Neutrality is for people who want to be liked,” she said calmly in English.
“I don’t.”

Manager chup ho gayi.

Anamika ne apna phone uthaya, time dekha, bina notifications check kiye bag mein daal diya.

“I don’t mind discomfort,” she added.
“It makes people honest.”

Announcement hui.

Uska naam.

Whispers sharpen ho gaye jaise kisi ne hawa mein blade chala diya ho. Log seedhe ho gaye. Phones automatically upar uth gaye.

Anamika ne ek slow breath liya aur aage badhi.

Heels ki awaaz stage tak pahunchi usse pehle ki woh khud pahunchti. Har step measured tha. Na tez, na slow. Jaise usse kahin pahunchne ki jaldi hi na ho.

Usne wave nahi ki.
Smile nahi di.

Bas chalti rahi.

Stage par jaakar baithi. Legs cross ki. Spine straight, par stiff nahi. Hands relaxed, jaise yeh jagah uske liye uncomfortable ho hi nahi sakti.

Moderator ka intro thoda zyada safe tha, thoda zyada careful. Har word mein hesitation thi. Sabko pata tha pehla sawal kya hoga.

Responsibility.
Influence.
Consequences.

Moderator ne sawal pucha, jaise kisi warning ko concern ka wrapper pehna diya ho.

Anamika ne poora suna. Interrupt nahi kiya. Uske face par koi defensive expression nahi aaya. Na jaw tight hui, na brows crease hue.

Jab woh boli, awaaz calm thi, clear thi.

“People are very quick to blame stories,” she said.
“They’re slower to question themselves.”

Hall mein movement hui.
Kuch log uncomfortable ho gaye.

She leaned forward thoda sa, bas itna ki room uski taraf jhuk jaaye.

“If my writing unsettles someone,” she continued,
“it’s because it recognizes something they’ve been avoiding.”

Kisi ne chair shift ki.
Kisi ne aankhein neeche kar li.

“Darkness isn’t contagious,” she said.
“It’s familiar.”

Moderator ne intervene karna chaha.
“But don’t you think—”

Anamika ne haath uthaya. Soft gesture. Rude nahi. Final.

“I’m not here to comfort anyone,” she said.
“I write what people think but don’t admit.”

Uski nazar audience par phiri.
Woh sab dekh rahi thi — fear, curiosity, resentment.

“And if someone mistakes recognition for permission,” she added,
“that confusion didn’t begin with me.”

Silence gir gayi.

Is baar applause bhi unsure thi.

Anamika khadi hui, jaise room ko decide karne ka waqt hi na dena ho.

“Thank you,” she said lightly.
“This was… enlightening.”

Aur bina peeche dekhe stage se utar gayi.

Backstage mein chaos tha. PR log fast-fast baat kar rahe the. Phones vibrate kar rahe the. Manager uski taraf badhi.

Par Anamika already coat pehen rahi thi. Dheere. Methodical.

Usne poocha nahi “kaisa gaya”.
Usse pata tha.

Woh corridor mein aayi — narrow, thoda dim, fluorescent lights ke neeche.

Aur wahi ruk gayi.

Koi saamne khada tha.

Na raasta rokte hue.
Na awkwardly hat-te hue.

Bas dekh raha tha.

Arnav ne khud ko yahan aane ka reason samjhaane ki koshish ki thi. Khud se kaha tha ki woh sirf observe kar raha hai, sirf professional curiosity hai. Par jaise hi usne Anamika ko stage par dekha tha, kuch align nahi ho raha tha.

Ab jab woh saamne thi, usse laga jaise uski saari mental preparation irrelevant ho gayi ho.

Anamika ne uski taraf dekha.

Surprise nahi tha uski aankhon mein.
Bas assessment.

“Yes?” she asked in English.
“Can I help you?”

“Anamika Rao?” Arnav bola, jaante hue bhi poochte hue.

“That’s what they call me,” she replied.

“Main Arnav hoon,” usne kaha. “I was at the event.”

“I know.”

Yeh sunke Arnav thoda off-balance ho gaya.

“Tum jo stage par bol rahi thi,” usne kaha, “tumhe lagta nahi log usse galat tarah se le sakte hain?”

She took one step closer.

Not invading.
Just entering awareness.

“Of course they can,” she said calmly.
“That’s the privilege of language.”

“Privilege?” Arnav ne repeat kiya.

“Yes,” she said.
“Words don’t force anything. They invite.”

Arnav ke dimaag mein ek line flash hui — victims who looked calm.

“Aur agar koi invitation ko… kuch aur samajh le?” usne poocha.

Anamika ne usse dekha, jaise yeh sawaal usse interesting laga ho.

“People who are looking for permission,” she said,
“will find it anywhere.”

Uski awaaz mein na guilt tha, na hesitation.

“Tumhe farq nahi padta?” Arnav ke muh se nikal gaya.

She smiled — na kind, na cruel. Curious.

“Why should it?” she asked.
“Reaction tells me more than silence ever could.”

“Tum mujhe judge kar rahi ho?” Arnav ne poocha.

“No,” she said softly.
“I’m observing.”

She paused.

Her eyes stayed on his face longer than necessary.

“Your eyes seem familiar.”

Arnav ke liye woh line ajeeb thi. Recognition jaisi nahi — par discomfort jaisi. Jaise kisi ne usse bina context ke pehchaan liya ho.

Woh kuch pooch paata, usse pehle hi Anamika peeche hati.

“If you’re here for reassurance,” she said lightly,
“you won’t find it with me.”

Woh mud gayi.

Do kadam chali.

Phir ruki, bina mudke.

“Curiosity suits you,” she added.
“But it will cost you your balance.”

Aur woh chali gayi.

Heels ki awaaz corridor mein echo karti rahi.

Arnav wahi khada raha.

Usse samajh aa raha tha ki yeh conversation warning nahi thi.
Invitation bhi nahi thi.

Yeh kuch aur tha — jaise kisi ne uske dimaag ke andar ek darwaza khol diya ho, bina pooche.

Us raat, Arnav ne file khol kar band nahi ki.
Usne apne notes dobara padhe.

Aur pehli baar usse laga —
case usse dekh raha hai.

Shehar ke doosre kone mein, Anamika car ki backseat par baithi thi. She finally unlocked her phone.

Notifications screen bhar rahi thi.

She ignored them.

Sirf ek cheez par uski nazar ruki — ek missed call, unknown number.

She smiled faintly.

“Already,” she murmured to herself.

She leaned back, city lights glass par reflection banati hui.

Log soch rahe the ki ab woh uske peeche jaa rahe hain.

Anamika jaanti thi —

Woh toh bas follow karne ki ijazat de rahi thi.

---

word count ~ 2000 words
stay tunned next updates soon

 

[RagVi Singh]

I try to keep suspense in story so my hands r tight

Suicide ka repeatedly hona Anamika ko spot krta hai and Yeh suicide hai ya kuch aur yeh aage jaldi reveal hoga

Mene phle bhi bataya tha Anamika ka role commanding and strong hai

Hehehe wait for more tension between them

Thanks a lot
Keep supporting
Next update soon

Ms. writer do update index

Ragvi Writing bahut controlled aur sharp hai bilkul Tumhari story ke characters ki tarah. Arnav ka investigator mind aur Anamika ki unsettling calmness ek silent chess game jaisa feel deti hai, jahan moves kam aur impact zyada hai aur Sabse strong part hai control vs influence ka theme. Suicide ko copycat bolna easy hai, par yahan jo dikhaya gaya hai woh emotion nahi, obedience hai—yeh idea genuinely disturbing hai. Room ka “too clean” hona, repeated patterns, sedative ka hint ye sab kuch quietly scream karta hai ki yeh accident ya impulse nahi tha.

Anamika ka character highlight hai no panic, no justification, sirf discipline aur awareness. Uski lines short hain par heavy hai jaise “Silence needs maintenance.” Arnav aur Anamika ke beech ka unspoken tension, especially panel scene mein eye contact, story ko next level par le jaata hai.

Waiting for next babe

Writer ki mehnat ka kuch to khayaal karo

next episode posted guys do check

 

[RagVi Singh]

Off course babes

next episode posted do check

 

[RagVi Singh]

Week main kitne update ayenge

Happy birthday

And congratulations for new Journey of XF...

Awesome starting please keep writing

I hope story disappointing nahi hogi

Congratulations and best of luck

और जो भी लिखना, व्यूज और रिव्यूज के चक्कर में मत लिखना, बस दिल से लिखना।

Ye kya bawasir hai RagVi Singh
1 bhi update nahi aya abhi tak?

Nice ones Raghvi.. finally likhna start to kiya dobara se.. excited to see how it unfolds..
Keep writing

next episode posted do check