The morning sky above Delhi hung heavy with smog, a dull grey that blurred the line between air and smoke. The school gates of Delhi Public High opened like the mouth of a beast — hundreds of students pushing through, laughter echoing against the concrete walls.
Aryan Singh walked in silence, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He had been in this school for two months now. Routine had numbed most of his senses — morning bell, classes, the usual fights between groups. But today, something felt off.
He felt eyes on him.
Not from students. Something else.
1. Subtle Movements
In class, Aditya leaned toward him."Bro, you okay? You're staring out the window like a sniper."
Aryan didn't answer immediately. Outside, across the school wall, a white car sat parked for too long. Inside it — tinted windows, no driver visible.
"I'm fine," Aryan muttered. "Just… thinking."
"About exams?" Aditya grinned.Aryan didn't reply.
2. The City Breathes Violence
During lunch, Aditya scrolled through his phone, whispering to his group."Hey, did you see the news? Some gang fight near Connaught Place. Red Tigers and Metro Snakes again. Two dead."
Everyone around the table murmured.Aryan kept eating quietly, each bite measured. His body was still, but his mind mapped every name Aditya mentioned — Red Tigers, Metro Snakes. He remembered those names from another world. The kind of men who didn't fight for pride — they fought for dominance.
Delhi was changing. The school fights weren't random. They were feeding into something bigger.
3. The Coach Who Knows Too Much
After school, PE Coach Arvind stopped Aryan by the basketball court."Singh," he said. "You've got sharp reflexes. Ever trained professionally?"
Aryan looked at him, expression blank. "Just… discipline."
Arvind smiled faintly. "Discipline's good. But discipline like yours comes from more than running laps. You remind me of soldiers I used to train."
Aryan's pupils shrank slightly. "You were in the army?"
The coach shrugged. "Something like that. Anyway, just a word of advice — keep your head down. Some kids here aren't just students."
Aryan looked straight into his eyes. "I know."
For a moment, silence. A mutual understanding passed between them — two men who'd both seen violence, both pretending to live normal lives.
4. The Locker Note
That evening, as the last bell rang, Aryan opened his locker to grab his bag. A folded piece of paper lay inside.No name. No handwriting he recognized. Just a single line:
"They're closer than you think. Trust no one."
He stared at the note for a long moment, his heartbeat steady. No emotion, no panic — just calculation.He knew what this meant. Someone had been digging into his past.
5. Surveillance
Walking home through the dusty Delhi lanes, Aryan's senses sharpened. He crossed the same turn twice, testing the tail. The same white car reappeared a few meters behind.
He slipped into an alley, watching from a broken wall mirror. The car slowed, then drove away.
Aryan exhaled softly. They're watching. Circuit? Or someone else?
He looked at his reflection — the faint scar under his jaw, the eyes that had seen too much blood to ever belong to a schoolboy.
If they're coming, he thought, I can't face this alone.
For the first time in years, Aryan felt something he hadn't felt since Syria — the awareness of being prey again.
6. Inner Monologue (Emotional Realism)
That night, as he sat on the hostel terrace, Delhi's skyline flickering with distant lights, Aryan spoke softly to himself.
"I didn't come here to fight again. I came here to live normal."He clenched his fists slowly."But if they drag me into it… then I'll end it properly this time."
He looked at the city below — busy streets, sirens echoing far away. Every street light felt like a sniper's scope.
And somewhere, in the shadows of the capital, men from the Circuit marked his name on their lists.