The yacht groaned.
Not a sharp jolt—
a long, tortured creak, as if the sea itself had wrapped its fingers around the hull and begun to squeeze.
The lights flickered.
A scream cut through the air.
Ranav felt the deck shift beneath his boots. The railing slammed into his side as another tremor rolled through the yacht, sharper this time, violent enough to throw bodies off balance.
Someone collided with him from behind.
He staggered forward.
Too far.
The edge rushed up to meet him.
For a fraction of a second, there was nothing beneath his feet but air and the roaring black water below.
His breath left him in a sharp, panicked gasp.
Then—
Pressure.
Cold. Solid. Unyielding.
Something coiled around his waist, tightening just enough to stop his fall. Ranav's body jerked, instinctively bracing, his hands gripping the railing as if it might vanish.
His heart hammered so loudly he could barely hear the storm.
He looked down.
A thick, dark coil held him in place.
Smooth. Alive.
A cobra.
Its body was wrapped around him with impossible strength, anchoring him to the yacht as another wave slammed against the side. For one stunned heartbeat, Ranav forgot how to breathe.
The serpent's head was nowhere in sight—only its powerful body, steady, deliberate.
Then, slowly, as if its task was complete, the pressure eased.
The coil loosened.
And the cobra slid away, disappearing between shadows and panicked feet, vanishing into the chaos without leaving so much as a ripple behind.
Ranav stood frozen, hands still gripping the railing, chest heaving.
"…What," he whispered hoarsely.
No one answered.
No one had seen it.
The storm swallowed his question whole.
---
Across the deck, Pranati was helping an older man upright, her fingers shaking as she steadied him.
"Hold here—yes—slowly," she urged, forcing calm into her voice even as her own pulse raced.
The yacht lurched again.
She turned.
And the world seemed to tilt sideways.
The sea had risen—too high, too fast—a towering wall of water curling toward them, blotting out lights, sky, everything. It felt unreal, like the moment in a nightmare when you know what's coming but can't move.
Her chest tightened.
Not again.
The deck slipped beneath her feet.
Pain flared through her ankle as it gave way.
Pranati lost her balance.
Her breath hitched—
And a hand caught hers.
Firm. Warm. Certain.
Arnav.
Their fingers locked instinctively, neither thinking, neither choosing.
The moment their palms touched, something shifted.
Not a sound. Not a flash.
Just a sudden stillness.
The air seemed to press outward, like a held breath released. The towering wave shuddered, its shape breaking apart mid-rise, collapsing back into the sea as if it had struck an invisible wall.
The wind softened.
The rain thinned.
The yacht steadied.
No one noticed the exact second it happened—only that one moment there was terror, and the next there was… not.
Arnav pulled Pranati toward him without realizing he'd moved.
She stumbled forward, her strength gone, and fell against his chest.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Her hands clutched at his kurta, fingers curling into the fabric as if it were the only solid thing left in the world. His arm stayed around her, protective, steady, his body instinctively shielding hers.
Her breath was fast and uneven.
So was his.
The noise around them faded into a distant blur—voices, cries, orders—none of it quite reaching them.
Slowly, Pranati lifted her head.
Their eyes met.
Close enough to see the confusion in his. Close enough for him to notice the tremor in her lashes.
Neither spoke.
Neither understood why the storm had quieted.
Arnav's grip loosened just a fraction—not letting go, just enough to remind himself where he was. His voice, when it came, was low, restrained.
"Are you hurt?"
Pranati shook her head slightly, swallowing hard. "I… I don't think so."
They stepped apart—reluctantly, unconsciously—while around them people began to move again, murmuring in disbelief, clinging to railings, helping one another.
The sea lay calm now.
Too calm.
And somewhere far away, beneath dark water and darker intent, a presence watched with narrowed eyes.
Because something had interfered.
And this time—
it had not been planned.
To be continued.....