One week later.
The world had already moved on.
School bells still echoed through crowded hallways.
Coaching classes were still packed with sleepy students pretending to finish homework at the last second.
Tea stalls still breathed smoke into the evening air while people laughed over pointless conversations.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
And somewhere beneath all that noise—
Vihaan was drowning.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just slowly.
Like a stone sinking deeper and deeper into black water where nobody could see it anymore.
[Dream]
A voice echoed through the darkness.
Soft.
Tired.
Familiar.
"You know what's strange?"
A corridor slowly appeared before him.
Long.
Endless.
Silent.
Its walls weren't painted.
They were made of memories.
Old classroom windows covered in rain.
Laughter from rooftops.
His mother's voice calling him for dinner.
Rishav grinning while holding a packet of chips.
Pallavi sitting beside him quietly during one of his headaches.
And far away—
Avantika.
Standing still.
Not smiling.
Not speaking.
Just standing there like a forgotten painting inside an abandoned house.
Vihaan tried walking toward her.
But chains wrapped tightly around his ankles.
Cold.
Heavy.
Every step scraped painfully against the floor.
"Every time I sit in coaching after the day I first saw her..."
The lights above flickered weakly.
Thunder growled somewhere beyond the walls.
"It always turns into this corridor."
Water slowly began dripping from the ceiling.
At first, it looked normal.
Then the walls started crying.
Not water.
Tears.
"I think a part of me is still trapped here."
"Beneath the past."
"Beneath the people I couldn't save."
Avantika remained ahead in silence.
Close enough to see.
Too far to touch.
"And still..."
"I keep hoping she'll wake me up from this nightmare."
The corridor darkened.
The chains tightened harder.
Then—
everything shattered.
Vihaan woke up violently.
A sharp pain exploded behind his eyes like something tearing through his skull from the inside.
He grabbed his head immediately, breathing unevenly while sweat clung to his skin.
The room felt suffocating.
Outside, storm clouds had swallowed the sky whole.
Lightning flashed through the curtains for a brief second before darkness returned again.
Vihaan stood up slowly and opened the window.
Cold wind rushed inside instantly.
Rain was already falling.
Heavy.
Restless.
Like the sky itself couldn't stay calm anymore.
He stared outside quietly.
"Isn't it strange?" he whispered to himself.
"It's April..."
"So why does the sky still feel this broken?"
For some reason—
his thoughts drifted toward Avantika again.
Lately, it happened too often.
Her silence.
Her calmness.
The strange untouched look in her eyes, as if the chaos of the world could never truly reach her.
Why was he thinking about her this much?
He didn't know.
Maybe because she felt normal.
And normal was becoming rare inside him.
He walked toward the bathroom and splashed water on his face.
Then he looked up at the mirror.
For one second—
everything felt fine.
Then the emptiness returned again.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Like it had always been there.
"Why aren't you showing yourself anymore?" he whispered.
Only his reflection stared back.
Messy hair.
Tired eyes.
A face that was slowly starting to feel unfamiliar.
His phone buzzed suddenly.
Unknown Number.
Vihaan frowned and opened the message.
Are you waiting to meet me again?
Don't worry.
I'm still inside you.
Vihaan stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then threw the phone onto the bed.
"I seriously need to stop thinking about this shit..." he muttered.
But somewhere deep inside—
he already knew ignoring it wouldn't save him anymore.
The days after that passed strangely.
Vihaan stopped going to coaching completely.
He ignored calls.
Ignored messages.
Ignored people.
Sometimes he spent hours staring at the ceiling without moving.
Sometimes he searched through old notebooks, old photos, old chats—
like he was trying to find proof that the version of himself from before still existed somewhere.
Every night, he repeated the same lie to himself.
"I'm just tired."
"That's all."
"I've probably watched too many crime movies."
But lies become fragile after hearing them too many times.
And deep down—
he was beginning to crack.
One evening, the headache returned.
Sudden.
Sharp.
Violent.
Vihaan dropped to his knees beside the bed instantly, gripping his skull tightly.
"Why again...?" he whispered painfully.
His vision blurred badly.
His breathing started breaking apart into shaky gasps.
He quickly grabbed his bag with trembling hands, desperately searching for his sleeping pills.
Books.
Pens.
Wrappers.
No pills.
The pain became worse.
Far worse.
It felt like something alive was clawing inside his head.
Tears rolled down his face uncontrollably now.
"Please..."
Then—
everything went black.
[Somewhere Else]
Rain slammed violently against the windows.
Thunder cracked across the sky hard enough to shake the apartment walls.
The entire flat was drowning in darkness.
Power cut.
Only flashes of lightning revealed pieces of the room for brief horrifying seconds.
Pallavi sat curled near the corner of the living room floor, crying uncontrollably.
Her trembling hands covered her mouth as she stared ahead.
At the bodies.
Her mother lay beside the sofa.
Blood slowly spread beneath her like spilled ink across the floor.
Her father was collapsed near the dining table, one hand still stretched forward—
as if he had tried protecting someone until his final breath.
And standing in the middle of it all—
was him.
The killer.
Rainwater dripped slowly from the black raincoat onto the floor.
The knife in his hand reflected lightning for a brief second.
Pallavi couldn't breathe properly anymore.
"W-Why...?" she cried weakly.
"Please..."
"Please stop..."
The figure slowly turned toward her.
Thunder growled outside again.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The knife tightened in his hand.
Pallavi desperately pushed herself backward until her back hit the wall.
Tears mixed with rainwater leaking through the shattered window nearby.
Then—
another flash of lightning.
For one horrifying second—
his face became visible.
Vihaan.
Pallavi's eyes widened completely.
"No..."
The killer froze.
He just stood there silently staring at her.
The knife trembled slightly in his hand.
As if something inside him was fighting against itself.
Pallavi broke down harder.
"Vihaan... please..."
Another thunder strike shook the apartment violently.
For half a second—
the lights flickered weakly.
Then darkness swallowed everything again.
And suddenly—
the killer stepped backward.
Slowly.
Like he couldn't move any closer to her anymore.
The knife loosened slightly in his grip.
Pallavi's vision blurred from fear and shock.
The last thing she saw—
was the figure turning away and disappearing into the darkness beyond the hallway.
Then—
everything faded black.
Three days later.
The doorbell rang.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Vihaan slowly opened his eyes.
His body felt dry.
Heavy.
Weak.
He looked around the room in confusion.
The headache was gone.
"What..."
"What happened?"
The bell rang again.
Vihaan stumbled toward the door and opened it.
Three boys from coaching stood outside looking worried.
"Bro!" one of them said immediately.
"Are you okay?"
Vihaan blinked slowly.
"Yeah... why?"
"Why?" another boy frowned.
"You vanished for three days."
Vihaan froze.
"What?"
"You weren't answering calls or messages," Amrit said from behind them.
"We thought something happened to you."
Vihaan stared at him blankly.
"No..."
"I literally talked to you this morning."
Silence.
Amrit's expression changed slightly.
"Vihaan..." he said carefully.
"I haven't talked to you in three days."
The air suddenly felt colder.
Vihaan immediately pulled out his phone.
And froze.
The date.
Three entire days missing.
His heartbeat started rising uncontrollably.
No.
No, that wasn't possible.
Right?
The boys eventually left after forcing him to promise he'd return to coaching tomorrow.
The apartment became silent again.
Too silent.
Vihaan walked back toward his room slowly, trying to steady his breathing.
Then—
he noticed something near the washing machine.
A raincoat.
Black.
Still wet.
Beside it—
his shoes.
Covered in mud.
Vihaan stopped breathing completely.
A cold sensation crawled slowly up his spine.
"No..."
His phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
Another message.
How are you feeling now?
We did a lot of work these past three days.
Let me show you something.
A picture arrived.
Vihaan opened it slowly.
And the world inside him collapsed again.
Pallavi's parents.
Dead.
Blood everywhere.
And in the corner of the image—
Pallavi.
Unconscious.
Curled beside the wall like someone who had cried until fear itself finally shut her eyes forever.