The next night, Areeba kept her promise.
She stopped at a roadside dhaba and bought a piece of naan and chicken, wrapping it carefully in paper.
She entered the alley cautiously.
The hungry dog was still there, waiting. Its ribs jutted out from its thin body.
"Here," she said, kneeling down and placing the food on the ground.
The dog hesitated. Then, as if afraid the others would steal it, it lunged forward, devouring the food in frantic bites.
Areeba smiled—but something felt… wrong.
She turned her head slightly.
The other dogs weren't eating.
They were watching her.
Their eyes glowed in the dim streetlight. Not a single one blinked.
A chill crawled up her spine.
Her gaze flickered downward.
The pink cloth was gone.
Something else had taken its place. Something pale. Something shaped like a human hand.
Her breath hitched. No. It can't be.
Then—
A sound.
A wet, tearing sound.
Areeba ran.
She didn't stop until she was inside her apartment, the door locked behind her, her heart slamming against her ribs.
That night, she barely slept.
And in the moments when she did, she dreamed of dark eyes watching her through the night.