๐๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ก๐ ๐ฑ ๐๐๐ฒ๐๐ง
๐๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ง๐, ๐ฌ๐ก๐ ๐ฐ๐จ๐ฎ๐ฅ๐ ๐๐ ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ, ๐๐ฏ๐๐ง ๐ข๐ ๐ข๐ญ ๐ค๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ฆ ๐๐จ๐ญ๐ก!
โง.* ๐๐จ๐จ๐ค ๐๐ง๐ ๐จ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐ค ๐๐จ๐ฐ๐ฌ ๐๐๐ซ๐ข๐๐ฌ โง.*
Some stories begin with love at first sight.
Saisha Royโs began with a voice recording from a stranger.
One ordinary Sunday, she was curled up in her cozy apartment, lost in her favorite music, when an unexpected email appeared on her screen.
No subject. No sender name. Just an audio file.
A therapy session.
Most people would have ignored it. Deleted it. Reported it.
But Saisha? She pressed play.
And then she did it again.
And again.
For three years, she listened. Month after month, a new recording arrivedโan intimate glimpse into a strangerโs mind. A man spilling his darkest thoughts to a therapist. But the sessions werenโt about him.
They were about a woman he loved.
A woman he lost.
Saisha should have stopped. She should have questioned why she kept coming back, why she felt drawn to a voice she had never seen a face to. But she didnโt.
She gave him a nameโMr. Psychoโand let his words consume her. Let his obsession seep into her reality until she started craving those recordings like an addiction. It was harmless, she told herself. Just a voice.
After all, what were the chances sheโd ever meet him?
Zero.
At least, thatโs what she believed.
Until her estranged brotherโwho had grown distant and unnaturally cold toward her three years agoโcalled with a warning that sent a chill down her spine.
โDonโt leave the house for a week.โ
And as if fate wasnโt done playing its game, another email arrived.
Another recording.
But this time, the title wasnโt untitled like the others.
Last Recording.
And if that wasnโt enough to shake her world, fate delivered one final twistโshe saved a stranger from dying that very same week.
And as he lay there, barely conscious, he spoke.
The moment his voice reached her ears, Saishaโs world shattered.
Because he sounded exactly like Mr. Psycho.
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