Kavach Mahashivratri FF

When Sandhya Patvardhan begins sensing an unseen presence, she is drawn into a dangerous bond with Kapil Salgaonkar-a mysterious figure hiding a vengeful past tied to her family. As Kapil protects her and Angad falls for her, Sandhya's heart is torn between safety, destiny, and forbidden love.

Chapter 1 (A Stranger's Shadow, A Man's First Love)

The glass façade of Jindal Industries gleamed beneath the morning sun, its polished structure reflecting the pulse of the city. Inside, the air buzzed with the familiar hum of printers, phone calls, and hurried footsteps.

Sandhya Patvardhan had learned to find comfort in this rhythm.

Her desk, near a wide window overlooking the skyline, was an island of calm—neatly lined folders, pastel stationery, and the small brass idol of Shiva her mother insisted she keep "for protection." Sandhya had laughed back then.

She didn't laugh now.

As she typed, a cold shiver slid down her spine—sharp, unexpected, like someone whispering against her skin.

She turned.
The aisle was empty.

Again.

It was the third time this week.

Shaking off the unease, she bent over her work. Today mattered—Angad Jindal, the CEO himself, had assigned her an important presentation. He rarely depended on junior analysts, but Angad saw things others missed.

Like now, when he approached her desk with that calm, warm presence that made people sit up straighter without realizing.

"Miss Patvardhan?"

She jerked to her feet, almost knocking over her pen holder.
"Y-Yes, sir?"

A soft smile tugged at Angad's lips. He wore a crisp charcoal suit, sleeves rolled casually, his posture confident but never intimidating. What always struck her, though, were his eyes—gentle, attentive, lingering on her with more warmth than she was used to receiving from anyone at work.

"I read your market report," he said.

Sandhya blinked. "You... personally?"

"Of course."
He chuckled lightly.
"When something is this good, why wouldn't I?"

Her cheeks warmed before she could help it.

"I'd like you to join the board meeting today," Angad continued.
"Your insights are too valuable to be confined to a desk."

Her breath caught. "Sir, I—I'm honored."

"You've earned it," Angad said softly.
Then, with a hint of teasing warmth:
"And also... call me Angad. Not 'sir.' Unless you want to make me feel like I'm ancient."

She laughed nervously. "I'll try... Angad."

He smiled again—the kind of smile that reached the eyes.
The kind that made something quiet and shy flutter in her chest.

But just as he walked away, Sandhya felt that shiver again.
This time stronger.
Colder.

A faint draft brushed the back of her neck.

She turned sharply.

Nothing.

But her brass Shiva idol—steady for years—had tipped over.

And before she could touch it, her computer screen flickered—once, twice—then steadied.

A whisper drifted through the air, soft as breath.

"Sandhya..."

Her heart stopped.

The voice wasn't Angad's.
It wasn't anyone from the office.

It carried something... ancient.
Unfamiliar.
Possessive.
And yet impossibly deliberate—like someone had spoken directly into her ear.

The lights steadied. The chill faded. Reality snapped back into place.

Angad reappeared at her side, completely unaware of what had just happened.
"Forgot to say—good luck for the meeting," he said warmly.

But Sandhya barely heard him.

Because behind the safety of her job,
behind Angad Jindal's growing affection,
something else had stirred awake.

A shadow.
A presence.
A voice she did not recognize...

Kapil Salgaonkar.

A stranger.
And yet, somehow—he had spoken her name.

The man in the dreams

The nights had begun to feel strange.

Each time Sandhya Patvardhan closed her eyes, sleep didn't take her gently anymore—it pulled her into something colder, deeper... something that felt like it didn't belong to her.

It began with whispers.

Soft at first.
Faint.
Then unmistakably directed at her.

"Sandhya..."
"I'm waiting..."

She would wake breathless, heart pounding, telling herself it was work stress, too much screen time, too little sleep.

But the dreams kept returning.

And then came the night that changed everything.

The Temple Dream

Sandhya blinked and found herself standing barefoot inside the ancient Shiv Temple near her home.

But this wasn't how the temple looked in reality.

Tonight it glowed—radiant, surreal, as if Lord Shiva had descended into His own shrine. Lamps lit themselves one by one, their flames rising unnaturally tall. The air vibrated with divine energy that sent shivers down her spine.

"Why... why am I here?" she whispered to no one.

The dream felt too real.
The stone under her feet was cold.
The incense in the air was sharp and sweet.
Her pulse echoed unnaturally loudly in her ears.

She turned slowly—
and that was when she felt it.

A presence.

Behind her.

Watching her.

The kind of presence that freezes breath yet strangely deepens it at the same time.

"Who's there?" she whispered, voice trembling.

Silence.

Then—

A shadow moved near the inner sanctum.

Sandhya took a step back instinctively.

"Hello?" she tried again. "Is someone—"

Before she could finish, the shadow stepped forward into the glow of the temple lamps.

And she saw him.

A man.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Dressed in dark, unfamiliar clothes.
Eyes piercing, intense, as if he had been staring at her for lifetimes—
except she had never seen him before.

Not once.
Not anywhere.

Sandhya's breath caught painfully.

"W... who are you?" she whispered.

The stranger stepped closer, the shadows around him shifting like they were alive. His face was hauntingly handsome, yet his presence sent a chill through her bones.

He stared at her for a long moment before answering, voice low, deep, unhumanly steady—

"Kapil."

Her lips parted.

Just a name.

No explanation.

No familiarity.

She didn't know him.
So why did his voice feel like it slid under her skin?

Sandhya shook her head.
"I don't know you. Why am I seeing you in my dreams?"

A flicker of something crossed his eyes—relief? Possession? Recognition?

"I didn't bring you here," Kapil said softly.
"Shiva did."

Her heart raced harder.

"What? Why would—?"

Kapil stepped closer, and she forced herself not to back away.

"You're not supposed to be afraid of me," he murmured.
"I've been trying to reach you for days... and tonight, you finally heard me."

Sandhya felt the world tilt.

"What do you want?"

Kapil's hand lifted—slowly, as though resisting an urge. His fingertips almost touched her cheek, but he stopped at the last second.

His voice dropped to a whisper that made her stomach tighten with both fear and an emotion she didn't understand—

"Just to see you."

Her knees weakened.

His presence swallowed the space between them.

He leaned forward—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Her phone.

The dream shattered.

The temple dissolved like mist.

Sandhya gasped awake, clutching her chest, the echo of Kapil's eyes still burning her mind.

Her phone vibrated insistently.

Angad Jindal calling.

Hands shaking, she picked up.

"H–Hello?" she whispered.

Angad's warm, steady voice filled her ear.
"Sandhya? Sorry for the late call—just needed clarity on the draft. Did you finalize it?"

Sandhya swallowed.
Her voice trembled.
She prayed he couldn't hear her heartbeat hammering.

"Yes, Angad... it's final."

"You sound breathless," he said gently.
"Are you alright?"

Her eyes darted to her window.

The curtains fluttered.

There was no wind.

"I'm fine," she lied.

When the call ended, her room fell silent.

Cold.
Still.
Watching.

A breath ghosted her ear.

A whisper followed.

"Our first meeting... won't be the last."

Sandhya froze.

Because she realized something terrifying—

She didn't know Kapil.

But Kapil knew her.

-------

To be continued.

Angad is the unseen presence? He falls for her. Does she fall for him?

Angad is the real one. So Kapil must be the unseen presence.

Originally posted by: coderlady

Angad is the real one. So Kapil must be the unseen presence.

Yes Kapil is the unseen presence.

How long has Kapil been appearing in her dreams? Now he is reaching out during the day too.

Chapter 2 (The Pull Of Two Worlds)

The day at Jindal Industries moved quickly after the board meeting, but Sandhya barely remembered any of it.

She remembered Angad’s proud smile when she spoke confidently.
She remembered the board nodding at her insights.
She remembered the soft applause at the end of the presentation.

But none of it stayed with her.

What stayed was the whisper.

Sandhya…

A stranger’s voice echoing inside her mind.

No one else had heard it.
No one else had felt the cold air that kept brushing her skin as though invisible fingers trailed behind her.

By the afternoon, she felt drained, restless.

Angad noticed.

He always noticed.

“Long day?” he asked gently, leaning against her desk.

She looked up, startled. “You could say that.”

“You didn’t seem yourself during lunch.”
He hesitated.
“Did something happen?”

Sandhya opened her mouth—
to say no,
to say yes,
to say I don’t know what’s happening to me.

Instead, she forced a smile.
“Just tired.”

Angad didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further.
“Let me drop you home today,” he offered.

She blinked. “Angad, that’s not necessary—”

“I know.”
He smiled, warm and earnest.
“But I want to.”

Something inside her softened.
Angad made things simple.
Safe.

She nodded. “Okay.”

The Car Ride

As Angad drove, the city lights painted soft reflections across the windshield. He glanced at her every few seconds—subtle, worried, gentle.

“You know,” he began quietly, “you handled the board better than most senior executives.”

She laughed softly. “Are you always this generous with compliments?”

“Only when they’re deserved.”
He paused.
“And only to people who matter.”

Sandhya looked at him, surprised.

Angad’s eyes flicked to hers—
warm, sincere, lingering a little too long.

Something fluttered in her chest.

What is he trying to say?

But before she could ask, her breath suddenly froze.

Something was in the backseat.

She didn’t see it—
but she felt it.

A cold presence.
A heavy awareness.
As if someone was sitting right behind her, leaning forward, watching her pulse jump in her throat.

Her fingers tightened around her seat belt.

Angad noticed instantly.
“Sandhya? What’s wrong?”

She swallowed. “Nothing—just a chill.”

But Angad frowned. “Should I turn the AC down?”

“No,” she whispered.

Because the cold wasn’t from the AC.

It was from him.

Kapil.

Invisible but present.
Silent but overwhelming.
Close enough that the back of her neck tingled as if a cold breath grazed her skin.

Angad remained blissfully unaware as he drove on.

The Night Visit

Later that evening, Sandhya stood in her bedroom, replaying the moment in the car again and again.

She hugged herself.
“Why is this happening…?”

The room darkened suddenly.

The curtains fluttered—
though the windows were closed.

The lamp flickered—
and dimmed.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

“Not again,” she whispered.

But it was too late.

The air behind her thickened, dense and cold.
Her breath clouded in front of her mouth.

A whisper curled around her ear—deeper, clearer, closer than ever before:

“I told you… you can’t run from me.”

Sandhya spun around—

And this time she saw him.
Not a blur.
Not a shadow.
Not a faint outline.

Kapil Salgaonkar stood in her room.

A stranger.
Uninvited.
Unhuman.

Yet impossibly calm, as if appearing in her room was the most natural thing in the world.

Sandhya stumbled back.
“H-How are you here? This is—this is my home—”

Kapil took a single step forward, shadows shifting around him like living smoke.

“I follow where your fear goes,” he murmured.
“And where your heartbeat calls.”

She shook her head, trembling. “What do you want from me?”

His eyes—dark, intense—softened.

“Nothing,” he whispered.
“Except for you to stop pretending you don’t feel my presence.”

Sandhya’s breath hitched.

“You’re a stranger,” she said, voice breaking.
“I don’t even KNOW you!”

Kapil’s jaw clenched, as if something inside him twisted painfully at the word stranger.

“You know enough,” he murmured.
“You hear me. You sense me. You dream of me.”
His gaze deepened.
“And I am not here to harm you, Sandhya.”

She backed against the wall.

“Then why appear like this? Why haunt me?”

Kapil stepped closer—slowly, carefully, his presence overpowering but controlled.

“I didn’t choose to be a shadow,” he said quietly.
“But I choose where I go now.”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“And I choose you.”

Her heart stopped.

Before she could speak—
before she could scream—
a warm, familiar voice broke the moment.

“Sandhya? You okay?”

She gasped—
It was Angad.
Calling her from the hallway as he dropped off a forgotten file she left in his car.

She blinked—

And Kapil vanished.
Just like that.

Sandhya stood frozen as Angad knocked gently.

“Sandhya? Should I come in?”

Her palms were ice cold.

Two worlds had collided tonight—
the man who admired her
and the stranger who haunted her.

Her voice finally came out.

“C-Come in, Angad.”

But as she opened the door, a cold whisper brushed her ear once more—

“You can let him in.
But you belong to my shadows now.”

Between Two Presences

The next morning at Jindal Industries, Sandhya arrived with barely any sleep behind her eyes. She had spent hours replaying the impossible:

Kapil appearing in her room.
Kapil vanishing the moment Angad knocked.
Kapil whispering that she belonged to his shadows.

She told herself it was a hallucination.
Stress.
Overwork.

But her heart knew better.

“Sandhya?”

She jolted at the sound of her name —
not the cold whisper this time,
but Angad’s warm, steady voice.

He stood at her desk, concern softening his features.

“You look pale,” he said gently. “Did you sleep at all?”

Sandhya forced a smile. “Just… a long night.”

“Not good.”
Angad’s brows tightened, and his tone deepened with sincerity.
“You carry the whole world inside your head. Let me help sometimes.”

Her heart gave a small, uneven thump.

Angad wasn’t dramatic.
He wasn’t forceful.
He didn’t invade her space.

He simply cared.

And part of her wished she could lean into that warmth without the weight of fear sitting in her chest.

Part of her wished Angad’s presence was the only one affecting her.

But life — and destiny — had become more complicated.

The Office Corridor Incident

At lunchtime, Sandhya walked down the corridor with documents in hand when the lights flickered overhead.

She froze.

Not again.

A cold wave swept through the hallway, brushing her skin like invisible fingers. The papers in her arms trembled though there was no wind.

“Not now… please not now…” she whispered under her breath.

But the air shifted.
Heavy.
Dense.

A whisper curled around her neck, intimate and chilling:

“You ignored me today.”

Sandhya’s breath hitched.
She spun around —
the corridor was empty.

But the cold intensified.

“Go away,” she whispered. “Please… not here.”

A low, dark chuckle echoed in her ear.

“I don’t come because you call me…
I come because you feel me.”

Her eyes widened.
She stumbled back—

Just as someone caught her wrist.

Warm.
Human.

“Sandhya!” Angad held her steady, eyes wide with worry. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Her pulse hammered.
She could still feel Kapil’s presence behind her.

“I… I slipped,” she lied.

Angad didn’t believe her.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“Look at me.”

She did — because Angad’s voice grounded her the way earth steadies a shaking body.

“You’re scared,” he said softly.
“Of something you’re not telling me.”

A lump formed in her throat.
She couldn’t speak.
She couldn’t explain the unexplainable.

Angad exhaled and released her wrist gently, but his fingers brushed hers in a way that lingered.

“You don’t have to face whatever it is alone,” he whispered.

Her heart twisted.

Angad was becoming important — dangerously important.
And Kapil felt everything she felt.

The Night the Boundary Crossed

That night, Sandhya sat on her bed with the lights on, her body rigid with tension.

She thought avoiding sleep might keep him away.

She was wrong.

The lights dimmed.

The temperature dropped.

Sandhya’s breath fogged in front of her.

“No…” she whispered. “Please… not again.”

A shape formed near the window.

Dark.
Solid.
Tall.

Kapil.

His eyes glowed faintly in the shadows — not monstrous, not demonic…
but unbearably intense.

“Why are you so afraid of me?” he asked softly.

Sandhya pulled her knees to her chest.
“Because I don’t know you.”

Kapil stepped closer.
“But you feel me.”

His voice wasn’t harsh today.
It was lower.
Calmer.
Almost vulnerable.

“I didn’t ask for this connection,” Sandhya whispered. “I never wanted it.”

Kapil paused, his expression tightening.

“Neither did I.”

Those words stunned her.

He continued, voice laced with a strange ache:

“But the moment your soul brushed mine,
I could not stay away.”

A shiver traveled down her spine.

“This is wrong,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Kapil moved closer — so close she could feel the cold radiating from him and yet the warmth beneath it struggling to break through.

“And yet,” he said,
“I am.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.
“You’re haunting me.”

“No.”
Kapil’s voice broke slightly.
“I’m drawn to you.”

Her breath escaped in a tremble.

She wanted to deny it.
Wanted to push him away.
Wanted to cling to Angad's steady warmth and pretend she wasn’t falling into something dangerous.

But when Kapil leaned closer, shadows softening around him like surrender—

her heart reacted.

Fast.
Loud.
Unmistakably alive.

Kapil’s eyes darkened.

“You feel it too,” he whispered.

She opened her mouth—
to deny it,
to reject it,
to scream at him.

But the truth tangled in her chest before she could form words.

She did feel something.

Something she didn’t want.
Something she couldn’t understand.
Something that made her terrified of herself.

Kapil’s face softened, breaking the silence with a whisper meant only for her ears—

“Tell me, Sandhya…
does he make your heart race the way I do?”

Her breath hitched violently.

Angad’s image flashed in her mind —

Warm eyes.
Gentle smile.
Steady heart.

Then Kapil’s —

Dark gaze.
Cold fire.
Overwhelming pull.

Two men.
Two forces.
Two worlds.

And Sandhya stood trembling in the middle —
caught between someone who made her feel safe
and someone who made her feel seen.

Kapil leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek.

“You can lie to him,” he whispered.
“You can lie to yourself.”
A pause.
“But you will never lie to me.”

Sandhya’s world cracked open.

Because she feared he might be right.

-------

To be continued.

Kapil knows her. From when and where and how? What is his purpose for invading her dreams and reaching out?

What did Kapil mean? He chose her? In what way? What is his intention?

How did these two souls cross paths? Kapil knew he could reach her and he stayed near her.