The stairwell noise flooded back all at once — footsteps, laughter, someone arguing about missing tiffin boxes — but none of it touched Dev. It all felt like background sound from another universe.
Meera's grip tightened. "Dev. Hey. Look at me."
He did, finally. Her eyes were steady, sharper than the fluorescent light deserved. She didn't look scared for herself — just for him.
He cleared his throat, voice rough. "It's… gone."
"What was?" she asked.
He searched for the right word, something that didn't make him sound insane.Nothing came.
So he whispered, "Something was watching."
Her breath hitched. Not disbelief — recognition. She didn't tease, didn't question. Meera just stepped closer, shoulder brushing his.
"I'm walking you home," she said.
He didn't argue.
They descended the stairs. At the bottom, a few kids were messing around with paper planes. One plane flew, dipped, then snapped midair like it hit an invisible wall before continuing normally.
Dev flinched.
Meera saw it too.She pretended not to for the kids' sake.
Outside, the heat was thick, the sun simmering behind monsoon clouds. A gust of wind shook the neem trees, scattering leaves that fell a little too slowly.
Dev swallowed. "It's getting worse."
"Or you're noticing more," Meera said quietly.
He didn't know which answer scared him more.
They reached the school gate where a cluster of older students lingered. Among them, Aarav stood leaning on his cycle, flipping a cricket ball between his hands with bored precision. The ball spun too smoothly — a hair too smooth — like the air offered no resistance.
Dev noticed it.Aarav didn't.
The boy glanced up and caught Dev's stare. His eyebrows furrowed.
"You good, man?" Aarav asked.Meera shot him a warning look, as if saying Not now.
Aarav didn't push, but he watched Dev leave… longer than normal.As if he sensed something too.A faint tension, a prickle on the skin.
The kind that comes before a storm.
Dev and Meera walked down the lane in silence until they reached the bend near the old tea shop. The shop's radio fizzed with static. The shopkeeper smacked it twice; the static didn't clear.
Time felt sticky here.Slower.
Dev exhaled shakily. "Meera… the thing in the stairwell—"
"You don't have to describe it," she said, voice softer than a whisper. "I believe you."
He looked at her, startled.
"I've been seeing… weird things too," she admitted. "Not like you. But… shadows don't fall right. Sounds echo wrong. Sometimes I feel something walk past me, but nothing's there."
Dev's pulse quickened. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want your mother worrying more," she said. "And because I thought… maybe it was just me."
He closed his eyes. Relief and fear tangled together.
"I'm not imagining it," he murmured.
"No," she said. "You're not."
A scooter raced past them. The sound trailed a little behind it — not enough for normal ears, just enough for Dev.
Meera noticed his wince. She placed a hand on his wrist — not holding, just grounding. "Dev… whatever is happening… it's listening to you."
He stiffened. "What do you mean?"
"When the fan stopped," she said, "when the clock cracked… the world changed after you reacted. Like it responds. Like it's waiting for you."
He felt the air shift again.A faint shiver.Like something brushing the corner of reality.
"Meera…" he whispered. "I don't want anything listening to me."
She didn't let go of his wrist.Most people would have.
She stood closer instead.
"You're not dealing with this alone," she said quietly. "Not anymore."
Dev's breath trembled.For the first time all day, the world tilted back toward something human.
They stood there a moment too long — just a lane, a tea shop, dusty heat, and two kids holding onto a shared fear they didn't know how to name.
Then—
A sound ripped through the air.
Small.Sharp.Wrong.
Like a rubber band snapping inside a metal pipe.
The world hiccupped.Colors dimmed.Wind froze mid-gust.
Every leaf in the neem tree hung suspended.
Dev's heart dropped.
Meera whispered, "Dev…?"
He didn't blink.
Because at the far end of the lane, where the bend curved out of sight, something was unfolding.
Not appearing.Unfolding.
As if peeled from the skin of reality.
A silhouette.Tall.Bent.Wrongly jointed.
Its fingers dragged through the still air, leaving faint streaks like smudges on glass.
The Entity didn't have eyes —but somehow, Dev felt it notice him.
And for the first time since everything began…
Dev heard something inside the frozen silence whisper his name.