Part 1: The Questions Begin
The next morning, the tension at KITE International School was thicker than ever. Students moved in uneasy clusters, their hushed whispers bouncing off the walls of the Commerce Block. Ishita walked through the corridor as if nothing had changed—her posture straight, her blazer crisp, her smile practiced and faintly serene.
Yet her mind felt as though it had split into two jagged halves. One half was her mask—perfectly constructed, flawless. The other half churned with questions she couldn’t answer.
She turned a corner and nearly walked into Mrs. Tripathy, the psychology teacher. The woman regarded her with a smile, though her sharp gaze lingered too long.
“Ishita. A word?” Mrs. Tripathy’s tone was kind but firm, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Ishita hesitated but forced herself to nod. “Of course, Ma’am.”
They sat in Mrs. Tripathy’s office, a small, warmly lit room cluttered with books on cognition and behavior. Ishita crossed her legs and smiled faintly, pretending to take in the room as though she had no care in the world.
“How are you holding up, Ishita?” Mrs. Tripathy asked. “Given all this talk about Aryan.”
“I’m fine,” Ishita replied smoothly. “It’s… difficult, of course, but I’m trying not to let it distract me.”
Mrs. Tripathy tilted her head slightly, examining her like a scientist studies a rare specimen. “It’s impressive, the way you keep yourself together. A lot of students are struggling with uncertainty right now. Especially those closest to Aryan.”
Ishita’s smile didn’t falter. “He’ll turn up. You know how he is, ma’am. He’s probably off doing something reckless.”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Tripathy murmured, though her expression didn’t suggest agreement. She tapped a pen against her notepad and leaned forward slightly. “Ishita, I’ve noticed you’ve always been exceptionally controlled. It’s one of your strengths, I think. But sometimes control can… crack, under pressure. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about how you’re really feeling?”
For the first time, Ishita felt her calm flicker. Just a flicker, but enough for her to notice.
“I’m really fine,” she said, a little too quickly. “I appreciate your concern, ma’am.”
Mrs. Tripathy nodded slowly, watching her. “Of course. My door is always open.”
As Ishita stood and turned to leave, she heard Mrs. Tripathy’s voice again, soft and deliberate.
“Sometimes we can keep secrets from everyone, Ishita. But not from ourselves.”
Ishita froze for half a second, then turned the door handle and walked out, her movements carefully measured.
Part 2: Rudra’s Suspicions
After lunch, the hallways buzzed louder than before. Ishita was making her way toward the library when she saw Rudra Mishra watching her from the far end of the corridor. His posture was rigid, his brows furrowed in a look that sent a chill down her spine.
For a moment, Ishita considered turning around. But that would look suspicious, and Ishita knew how to play her part.
“Rudra,” she called out, her voice light as she walked toward him. “How are you holding up?”
Rudra didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head, his sharp eyes never leaving her face. “Funny question, coming from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked softly, a faint note of concern threading her voice.
“I’ve been thinking,” Rudra said, stepping closer. “The night Aryan disappeared. You said you weren’t feeling well, so you left early. But someone else said they saw you walking toward the Science Block with him.”
Ishita’s heart pounded, but her face didn’t betray it. “I don’t know who said that, Rudra, but they’re mistaken.”
“Are they?” Rudra’s voice was quiet but cutting. “I was there too. I saw you.”
She tilted her head, meeting his gaze evenly. “Then you must be misremembering.”
Rudra didn’t blink. “I don’t think I am.”
“Why are you interrogating me, Rudra?” Ishita said, letting a touch of irritation creep into her voice. “I’m trying to deal with Aryan’s disappearance, just like you are.”
For a moment, Rudra didn’t say anything. Then he stepped back, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t trust you, Ishita. And I’m going to figure out what you’re hiding.”
He walked away, leaving her standing in the empty hallway. Ishita clenched her fists at her sides, her carefully controlled mask starting to crack around the edges.
Part 3: The Locker Note
The day dragged on, each moment heavier than the last. By the time Ishita reached her locker, the corridor was empty, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. She dialed her locker combination, but as the door swung open, she froze.
A note sat neatly on top of her books. The paper was folded once, the edges slightly crumpled. Her pulse quickened as she picked it up and unfolded it.
Three words stared back at her, scrawled in messy handwriting:
“I KNOW EVERYTHING.”
Her breath hitched. She glanced over her shoulder, the corridor stretching out in eerie silence. No one was there. But as she turned back to her locker, she felt it—that sensation of being watched, of eyes boring into her from somewhere unseen.
Ishita stuffed the note into her pocket and slammed her locker shut. Her footsteps echoed unnaturally loud as she hurried down the corridor.
Part 4: The Whispers
That night, Ishita lay in her bed, the dorm room dark except for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. She couldn’t sleep. The note weighed heavily on her mind, and Rudra’s words replayed endlessly in her head.
Just as she began to drift off, a faint sound broke the silence.
“Ishita…”
Her eyes snapped open. The voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it sounded close—far too close.
She sat up, her breathing shallow as she scanned the dark room. “Who’s there?” she whispered.
No answer. Just silence.
Then, faintly, from the corner of the room:
“I know what you did.”
Ishita bolted upright, her heart racing as she grabbed her phone and flicked on the flashlight. The beam of light cut through the shadows, illuminating her empty desk, her books, the mirror above it.
The mirror.
She stared at her reflection, the flashlight shaking slightly in her hand. For a moment, she thought she saw something—someone—standing just behind her reflection. A shape. A face. Aryan.
She whipped around, the beam of light darting over the empty room. There was no one there.
Her phone buzzed suddenly in her hand, and she nearly dropped it. She looked down, her hands trembling.
A new message. No name. No number.
“You can’t bury the truth.”
Ishita’s chest heaved as she clutched the phone, staring into the dark corners of the room. For the first time since Aryan’s disappearance, Ishita felt something she couldn’t control.
Fear.
Part 5: Sanya’s Doubts
The next day, Sanya Kapoor found Ishita sitting alone in the Commerce Block courtyard, staring blankly at her notebook. Sanya hesitated, her expression conflicted, before approaching.
“Hey,” she said softly, sitting down beside her.
Ishita looked up, her mask back in place. “Sanya. What’s up?”
Sanya fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. “I just… wanted to ask. Did you see Aryan the night he disappeared?”
Ishita smiled faintly, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “Why are you asking me that?”
Sanya avoided her gaze. “Because Rudra told me something. He said—he said he saw you two together.”
Ishita’s fingers tightened around her pen. “He’s lying.”
Sanya looked up sharply, her face pale. “Is he? Because something doesn’t feel right, Ishita. About you. About all of this.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Ishita leaned in slightly, her voice soft but pointed. “Be careful, Sanya. When people jump to conclusions, they tend to fall.”
Sanya blinked, her expression uncertain. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ishita smiled again, tilting her head. “Just that you should trust the right people.”
Sanya stared at her for a moment longer before standing up and walking away, her footsteps quick and uneven.
Ishita watched her leave, her smile fading as the courtyard grew silent again.
In the distance, the faint sound of laughter echoed through the trees. Aryan’s laughter.
Or maybe it was just in her head.
