[Morning – The News Breaks]
The sun rose, but it felt like it had no warmth.
Vihaan sat at the edge of his bed, eyes blank, lips slightly parted.
He hadn't slept — or maybe he had, but not in a way that gave rest.
His phone still lay where he dropped it last night.
Screen cracked.
Bloodied image of Rishav burned into its memory.
His throat was dry. He hadn't moved in hours.
The weight of that photo… of that moment… still clung to his skin like something he couldn't wash off.
He picked up the phone. Stared at the image again. This time, he didn't look away.
"Was it a dream?"
"Why me?"
"Why was my name the last thing he said?"
A notification buzzed.
News Alert: Shocking Triple Homicide – Family of Three Found Dead in South Delhi Apartment.
He clicked.
There it was.
The address.
Rishav's name.
A blurred photo of the house taped with yellow police line.
"...no suspects yet… investigation ongoing…"
Vihaan's stomach twisted.
He didn't remember how he stood up, how he changed, or how he left the house.
All he knew was that by 9:02 a.m., he was standing outside Rishav's building, watching the cops walk in and out.
---
[Crime Scene – Haunting Ground]
The place was swarming with police.
Cameras. Reporters. Neighbors whispering behind closed doors.
Everything felt muffled, like he was underwater — like grief had clogged his ears.
He stayed near the gate for a while, unsure if he even had the right to be here.
He hadn't talked to Rishav in years…
He didn't even attend his last birthday, didn't even reply to his texts.
But now?
Now he couldn't breathe thinking about what was left of him.
A young constable walked past. Vihaan stopped him.
"Can I… go in?"
The man looked him up and down. "Are you family?"
"No. Friend." His voice cracked on the word.
"Then no. It's an active crime scene. Step back."
Vihaan clenched his fists, took two steps back… but his eyes stayed glued to the building.
Suddenly, an officer exiting the house paused and looked at him.
"Hey. You. What's your name?"
Vihaan's heartbeat jumped. "Vihaan."
The man walked closer. "Vihaan what?"
"Just Vihaan."
The officer narrowed his eyes. "You knew the victim?"
Vihaan nodded. "We… were friends. In school."
The officer pulled out a small notebook. "Did he contact you recently?"
"No," Vihaan lied.
"Did you notice any unusual behavior from him? Any fights?"
"No," he lied again.
The officer looked at him a moment longer. Then closed the notebook.
"If you remember anything. Anything at all, you come to the station."
Vihaan nodded quickly. His palms were already sweating.
---
As the officer turned, a word hung in the air that made Vihaan stop breathing.
One of the men near the stairwell muttered, "You think this was personal?"
The other replied, "Too clean. Too calculated. This wasn't a robbery. This was a message."
And something inside Vihaan twisted.
A message?
Then why did he receive the photo?
---
[Afternoon – Lost in the City]
He didn't go home right away.
He wandered.
Through streets, corners, places he didn't recognize.
His feet moved, but his mind stayed stuck in that moment — when Rishav had said his name.
His name.
Vihaan.
He remembered their last real conversation.
It was years ago.
Rishav had offered him lunch in the school canteen when Vihaan had no money.
He had said something stupid like, "Real friends never let each other starve."
Vihaan had laughed then.
Now, that memory tasted like rust and regret.
---
[Evening – Return to the Quiet]
He reached home around 6:45 p.m.
The apartment was as empty as ever.
But now, it didn't feel peaceful.
It felt like a crime scene waiting to happen.
He sat on the edge of his bed. Again.
Opened his phone.
The image was still there.
Still Rishav.
Still blood.
Still that broken, desperate stare.
Vihaan didn't know when his tears started.
Only that they wouldn't stop.
His shoulders shook.
His chest burned.
He pressed his fists against his eyes like it would stop the pain leaking out.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I didn't answer. I'm sorry you said my name."
Then louder.
"I didn't kill you, Rishav. I didn't—"
His voice cracked.
Silence returned like a slap.
---
[Night – Something Feels Off]
By 10:11 p.m., the headache returned.
That same sharp stabbing behind the eyes.
He gritted his teeth.
Walked to the bathroom.
Splashed cold water.
Looked in the mirror.
He didn't recognize himself.
> "What the hell is happening to me?"
He stumbled back into his room, reached for his backpack — the one he rarely touched now.
He kept his sleeping pills inside it, ever since his doctor gave them last winter.
He unzipped it with shaky fingers, shoved his hand in, searching for the familiar foil strip…
But his fingers touched something cold.
Metallic.
Sticky.
His breath caught.
He pulled it out.
A knife.
Small. Sharp.
Stained with blood.
Rishav's blood?
His entire body went cold.
He dropped it.
Staggered back.
Hit the wall behind him and slid down to the floor.
"No. No. No—"
He began hyperventilating.
"What is this? Why was it in my bag? Who—how—"
His head throbbed again.
Harder this time.
The pain blurred his vision.
His ears rang.
He grabbed his skull and screamed silently.
And then—
Darkness.
---
[Somewhere Inside – The Thought Space]
Vihaan stood in a place that didn't exist.
No walls. No sky. Just floating.
Everything was black.
And in front of him — a figure.
His shape. His height. His face.
But not his eyes.
The eyes were grey. Empty. Familiar and foreign.
The figure smiled.
"You really thought you could ignore me forever?"
Vihaan stepped back. "Who… who are you?"
"That's the question, isn't it?"
"Who am I… or rather… who are you?"
The air buzzed with static.
"You want the truth, Vihaan?"
"You can't even remember your own reflection properly."
"You don't know what nights you black out."
"You don't know who you become when the pain gets too loud."
"You don't know who's holding the knife when your hands are shaking."
Vihaan screamed, "I didn't kill him!"
The figure's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Didn't you?"