Tanzila didn't blink.
Not once.
Not even when the wind hit her eyes.
Not even when Tanvir stared directly into them, trying to find something—anything—human.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
She smiled slightly.
"To remind you who you are."
"I don't need reminding," Tanvir snapped.
But his voice lacked conviction.
Because deep down—
He did.
Tanzila walked past him into his room like she belonged there.
Like she always had.
"You feel it, don't you?" she said, looking around.
"The cracks."
Tanvir frowned.
"What cracks?"
She stopped.
Turned slowly.
And whispered—
"The ones in reality."
At that moment—
The lights flickered.
Not once.
Not twice.
But in a pattern.
Like a signal.
Tanvir's breathing became uneven.
"What is happening to me?"
Tanzila stepped closer again.
Gentler this time.
"You're waking up."
"I don't want to wake up."
She looked at him—
And for the first time—
She blinked.
"Too late."
Outside—
A scream echoed.
Both of them turned toward the window.
Another crime.
Another death.
And somehow—
Tanvir knew exactly what they would find.
Because this time—
He didn't just feel like a witness.
He felt like the cause.