By morning, the canal wasn't just a story.
It was a shadow stretched across Vishrampur.
At Patel Bazar, people weren't haggling anymore. They huddled in circles, trading whispers like coins.
"The police took a woman's body," one shopkeeper whispered. "Wrapped it and carted it away before sunrise. I saw it myself."
"You saw nothing," another scoffed. "It was just a bundle of clothes. They don't want us to panic."
"Not clothes," a third cut in. "Two bodies. Both women. Ask anyone."
The contradictions spilled into every corner of town. Children made skipping rhymes about StarCode predicting deaths. Mothers muttered warnings before letting kids step outside.
At the college, jokes about predictions filled the back rows. Even the teachers were tired. One muttered as students laughed over the app, "This town is chasing rumors."
Sai sat stiff at his desk, his pen digging into paper. He barely heard the lesson. Every whisper, every laugh, every casual mention of the app grated against him. It was everywhere, inescapable.
When class ended, Rhea was waiting in the courtyard. She had her notebook in one hand, bag strap clenched in the other.
"You look half-dead," she said flatly.
Sai shrugged.
"You've been walking around like this for days. Silent. Distant. Always hiding in your head."
Her words weren't cruel, but they cut. Sai turned away before she could see his face.
Veer stepped up, tossing his bag onto one shoulder. "Enough," he said, quiet but firm. "We're all tired."
"I'm just saying what's obvious," Rhea muttered. "He's not okay."
Sai's chest tightened. He knew she was worried. But worry wrapped in sharp words didn't feel like care. It felt like a spotlight he didn't want.
Veer caught his eye, gave a small nod, the kind that meant *ignore it.*
Sai let out a slow breath and let that steadiness hold him.
"Let's go," Veer said. "The towpath."
Rhea snapped her notebook shut. "Finally."
…
The three of them walked the narrow road past Janki Ram Temple.
The brass bells rang faintly in the courtyard, their sound drifting toward the canal. Women in bright saris carried milk pots and garlands up the steps. The smell of marigolds and incense hung heavy, but underneath came the faint rot of water.
Sai slowed as the road bent. The canal's edge was visible beyond the temple wall, where Nehru Nagar began.
Its broken railing leaned over the towpath like crooked teeth. Beneath it, two stray dogs were pawing at the reeds, barking sharply. Their growls carried far enough that a few temple-goers stopped to watch.
Normally, no one cared about stray dogs digging at the mud. But with the canal's stories still raw, everyone was alert, searching for meaning in every sound.
Within minutes, a small crowd gathered, craning necks.
Rhea moved ahead first, eyes narrowed. "They're digging at something."
Sai's legs wanted to stop, but he followed. Veer stayed close, his hand brushing Sai's arm once, a grounding touch.
The dogs snarled, yanking against each other, then froze. One barked, then darted back.
That's when Sai saw it.
A woman's head broke the surface of the water.
Pale. Hollow-eyed. Hair tangled with reeds.
It bobbed against the mud, tethered by a rope. The rope looped tight under her chin, the other end knotted to a stone half-hidden beneath the murk.
Her lips were half open, as if trying to speak. And in her mouth, damp and clinging, was a dark scrap of paper.
Sai's breath caught. For a second, he swore her eyes moved, fixing on him, pleading.
"Truth." The word rang in his skull. His body shook, every muscle trembling.
Rhea gasped, her notebook slipping in her hand. Veer pulled her back, his arm firm across her chest. "Don't look."
But Sai couldn't turn away.
The current shifted. The rope pulled taut. Slowly, the stone sank deeper, dragging the head with it.
The reeds bent once, then the water stilled.
Only the ripples remained.
The crowd's murmurs swelled into a wave of fear. Someone cried out that it was cursed. Another swore StarCode had predicted it.
Sai couldn't move. His throat was locked.
Rhea's voice trembled. "You saw the paper, didn't you? It said something. I know it."
Veer's grip tightened on Sai's shoulder. His own voice was low, urgent. "We need to go. Now."
"No," Rhea snapped, her notebook trembling. "This is proof–"
"Not here." Veer cut her off, sharp. He tugged Sai back toward the road, and Sai stumbled like his legs didn't belong to him.
Rhea lingered a moment longer, scribbling down frantic notes, before following.
…
By the time constables arrived, the crowd was already restless.
"Stand back!" one officer barked. "There's nothing here!"
He threw a rock into the reeds, waiting for something to surface. Nothing did.
Another constable waved his rifle. "You want me to drag you all to the thana? Go home!"
The crowd grumbled, but slowly broke apart. Fear turned into muttered curses and suspicious glances.
Rhea scribbled again, refusing to look away until Veer practically pulled her along.
…
They walked back in silence, the bazaar's chatter buzzing faintly ahead.
Rhea's face was pale, but her eyes burned. "The app knew. It told us about the canal. And now this. It's all connected."
Sai flinched. The word *Truth* still echoed in his skull.
Veer spoke calmly, walking between them. "Or maybe we see what we expect. Fear makes shadows look sharper."
"No," Rhea said firmly. "I know what I saw."
Sai wanted to argue. To beg her to stop digging. But his voice refused him.
His silence stretched too long. Rhea's jaw tightened. She turned her gaze away, clutching her notebook like a shield.
Veer caught Sai's eye and shook his head slightly. "Later."
…
By the time they reached Sai's house, the sky was already burning orange. His mother was in the courtyard, rinsing utensils in a basin. She didn't look up as they passed.
"I need to write this down before I forget," Rhea muttered. She left quickly, notebook pressed tight against her chest.
Sai watched her go, torn between guilt and irritation.
Veer lingered, exchanging a soft word with Sai's mother, then followed Sai upstairs.
…
The rooftop was quiet. The town stretched out in muted colors, roofs glowing faintly in the last of the light.
The canal lay beyond, its fog already creeping like smoke.
Veer unpacked food his mother had packed. Sai barely touched it.
"You can't let it drown you," Veer said quietly.
Sai's eyes stayed fixed on the fog. "It knew. About the canal. About the truth."
"Or it made us believe it knew." Veer's voice was steady. "That's how rumors grow. Doesn't mean it has power."
Sai didn't reply.
The fog thickened, carrying with it the faint rot of stagnant water. Somewhere, a dog barked, then went silent.
Veer nudged him with a half-smile. "We'll figure it out. Together. Don't let her words eat at you."
Sai looked at him. For a moment, the knot in his chest loosened. He nodded faintly.
…
Later, when he lay in bed, sleep wouldn't come.
The cracks in the ceiling blurred. His chest felt tight.
Then the sound came again.
Drip.
Drip.
As though water was being poured steadily into a jug.
He sat up sharply. The room was empty.
His phone buzzed.
The screen lit the darkness.
*One truth is already missing. Another will follow. Choose who to trust.*
Sai's breath froze.
The words didn't feel like prediction. They felt like a knife.
He turned toward the window. The fog pressed thick against the glass.
And in the haze above the canal, a figure stood.
Still. Silent. Watching.
Sai blinked. The fog swallowed it whole.
But the feeling stayed.
The canal wasn't finished with him.
Not yet.