đź“… Tuesday, 8th August
By now, their morning routine had become a kind of ritual.
4:45 AM: Wake up, teeth half-brushed, clothes half-folded.
5:15 AM: Four scooters humming down muddy roads.
6:00 AM: Extra classes. Yawns. Sleepy formulas. Dreams.
Only this morning felt... different.
🌄 Morning: A Flicker
In biology class, while labeling the human nervous system, Simran leaned closer to Ishanvi, whispering behind her notebook.
"That thing with the beaker yesterday—don't say it was luck."
"What thing?" Ishanvi replied too quickly.
"You moved before it fell. You didn't even flinch. And your hand—boiling liquid? Barehanded?"
Ishanvi shrugged.
"Maybe I was just... lucky."
"Nope," Simran said flatly. "You're hiding something. And I'm going to find out what."
Ishanvi tried to laugh it off, but her eyes flicked to Abhay across the class.
He was already watching her, eyebrows raised—like he'd felt the conversation from across the room.
🍴 Recess: A Small Fire
They sat on their usual school bench. Aariv told a joke so ridiculous even Vaidehi chuckled.
Simran was balancing her half-eaten lunch on a leaf when a sudden gust knocked the box off.
"Great," she groaned. "My aloo's in the mud now."
Before anyone could react, a flame flickered—a single bright spark, like a candle lit from nowhere—right beneath Simran's feet.
She yelped, jumping back.
The flame vanished.
Everyone blinked.
"What was that?" Simran asked.
"Static?" Ishanvi offered weakly.
"Static doesn't look like a candle flame," Raghav muttered.
"Might've been reflection," Abhay added quickly, voice steady.
But Simran wasn't buying it. She stared at Ishanvi.
"You're glowing again," she said softly.
Ishanvi went quiet.
🌲 After School: A Shift in the Forest
After classes, the Nandanpur group headed back as usual. Simran stayed behind—her home was in Devgarh—but she lingered near the gate, watching them ride off.
The forest road was unusually silent. No birds. No rustling leaves. Only the hum of scooters.
Then—a deer darted across.
"Whoa!" shouted Vivaan, swerving.
"That was close," Abhay muttered, steadying his grip.
A little ahead, a tree stood scorched—blackened, its bark crisp. No smoke. No fire. Just... burned.
"Did someone burn it?" Meera asked.
"No smell of smoke," Aariv replied. "And the forest guard would've cleared it."
Ishanvi stared, frozen.
It was the same tree she had touched when she was five—the one that had glowed faintly under her palm.
She didn't say a word.
🌌 Night: Whispered Questions
That night, while folding blankets, Simran whispered to Vrinda over a call,
"Has your Didi always been... different?"
Vrinda paused.
"She's always been special. But recently... something feels... changed."
Across Nandanpur, in his home, Abhay sat under a lantern's flicker, staring at his hand.
A single droplet of water had appeared in his palm—without touching anything wet.
He wiped it quickly, then glanced toward the window.
The wind rustled.
Somewhere far off, a tiny flame still flickered.