The next day felt wrong.
The sun hung pale and washed out over the college. Shadows seemed longer than they should be, stretching across hallways like fingers. The air smelled faintly of smoke and iron, though nothing had burned.
Shreya tried to focus in class, but the whispers followed her—so faint she wondered if she imagined them. Her notebook trembled in her hands, filled with sketches she didn't remember drawing: broken clocks, twisted corridors, a shadow with her face.
Mehul noticed first. "Shreya… are you okay? You look like you haven't slept in days."
"I… I'm fine," she muttered, though the lie tasted bitter.
Then the phone rang. Unknown number.
A distorted voice spoke: "Time is bleeding. Stop or be consumed."
Shreya dropped the phone. Her stomach turned.
Later, she saw Aarav. He had been avoiding her for days, but now his eyes were urgent, desperate.
"Shreya, listen to me," he said. "The dead man… he's not the first, and he won't be the last. Something… something is unmaking time. We can see the cracks now."
"Cracks?" Shreya whispered.
"Every choice, every movement—it's creating a shadow version of tomorrow. One wrong step and it consumes someone you love."
Shreya felt panic curl in her chest like a living thing. She glanced at her notebook—one of the sketches had changed. The shadow that had once mimicked her now had its own jagged outline, a grin that wasn't hers.
And for the first time, she realized: she wasn't just seeing the future. She was racing against it.