St. Mark's School, Campus
The school campus was already alive.
Students moved in loose groups across the grounds, bags slung low, voices overlapping, laughter echoing between buildings. Some rushed toward classrooms, others drifted toward the garden paths, stretching out the last moments before the bell. It was the kind of morning that felt ordinary enough to forget later.
Near one of the metal poles lining the walkway, Aman stood alone.
He kept glancing toward the entry gate, fingers tapping lightly against his wrist before checking his watch again.
7:35 a.m.
His jaw tightened. He had waited outside before the gates opened, then inside once they finally did. Standing still made time feel slower than it was.
"Aman. We're here."
The voice came from behind. Aman turned sharply.
Kush was walking toward him, slightly out of breath, with Mandeep beside him, looking far too relaxed for someone who was late.
Aman straightened.
"Where were you?" he asked, irritation slipping through despite his attempt to stay calm. "I've been standing here for ten minutes."
Kush slowed, lifting his hands slightly in apology.
"I know," he said. "We were trying to hurry, but my shoe got stuck in one of those iron grills."
He raised his foot. The sole was torn open, the damage obvious.
Kush let it drop back to the ground.
"That happened."
Aman stared, then blinked.
"You're kidding," he said. "How are you even walking like that?"
Kush gave a small, uncomfortable shrug.
"I don't have much of a choice."
Aman shook his head, already thinking.
"No. That won't work. We need to fix it. Here. Before classes."
Mandeep leaned slightly forward, eyes bright with interest.
"I might have a solution."
Both of them turned to him.
"The medical room," Mandeep said. "If we can get the first-aid box from Mansi, we can stitch it temporarily."
Aman pointed toward the torn sole.
"And how long do you think that stitching will last?"
"Long enough for today," Mandeep replied. "After school, we'll get it repaired properly. Worst case, we buy him a new pair. We can manage that."
Kush looked at Aman, searching his face.
"It's not perfect," he said, "but it's better than this."
Aman hesitated. His expression shifted.
"I get the idea," he said slowly. "But do you honestly think Mansi will help us?"
Kush stiffened slightly.
Aman continued, lowering his voice.
"That Mansi. The one whose breakup happened because of us."
Kush swallowed and looked toward Mandeep.
Mandeep placed a hand against his chest, confidence steady but not arrogant.
"Leave that to me," he said. "I know how to handle this."
Aman sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Fine," he said. "But if this turns ugly, we're leaving you there."
Mandeep smiled faintly.
"You could," he said. "But you won't."
Kush checked the time again, more carefully now.
"We should move. We're already pushing it."
Aman nodded, then paused.
"Wait. Where's Harsh? Didn't he come with you?"
Kush answered quickly.
"He said he'd be a little late. He called Mandeep."
Mandeep nodded.
"He'll catch up."
Aman exhaled, tension easing just a little.
"Alright," he said. "Let's go."
The three of them turned and walked toward the building, disappearing into the flow of students. The morning continued as it always did—voices, footsteps, routine—unchanged, unaware, and perfectly normal.
Malleshwaram, Harsh's Apartment
"Harsh!"
Payal's voice carried from the kitchen, sharp and familiar.
"Lunch is ready!"
Inside his room, Harsh slid the last book into his school bag, pressing it down so the zip would close properly. Without looking up, he raised his voice in reply.
"I'm coming."
He grabbed the bag, pushed open his door, and stepped out into the living room, already dressed in his blue school uniform. The fabric sat neatly on him, too neatly for someone his age.
From the kitchen doorway, Payal watched him, one hand resting on her hip.
"Why are you leaving so late today?" she asked. "And you didn't even go with your friends this morning."
Harsh placed his bag down beside the chair and reached for his tiffin.
"I'll be late today," he said. "If I'm not, Ms. Meena will make me reorganize the entire library."
Payal tilted her head slightly, studying him in a way that felt more curious than concerned.
"But that's a good thing, isn't it?"
Harsh slung the bag over his shoulder, adjusted the strap, and paused for a second before answering.
"Yes," he said. "It's good work."
Then, after a brief pause, he added quietly,
"But don't you think it's the kind of good work everyone should have to do?"
Payal understood immediately.
She gave him a look that carried mild disbelief mixed with tired amusement, the kind that said you're too young to be this serious without using the words.
Harsh met her gaze and responded with a small, restrained nod, his expression calm but firm. It wasn't defiance. It was quiet agreement with himself.
Payal sighed softly, shaking her head just a little.
"You think too much," she said.
Harsh didn't argue. He never did.
He picked up his tiffin, turned toward the door, and stepped out, leaving behind the familiar apartment and the conversation that ended the same way it always did.
St. Mark's School, Ground floor
The ground floor corridor was already loud with the restless energy of the morning. Shoes scraped against the tiled floor, lockers clanged shut, and voices overlapped in careless bursts. Kush, Aman, and Mandeep walked side by side toward the medical room, moving without urgency, assuming the day still belonged to them.
Mandeep's gaze shifted suddenly.
Javed passed them from the opposite direction, walking fast, his head slightly lowered, backpack slung over one shoulder. He didn't look at them. He didn't need to.
Mandeep slowed.
Then stopped.
"Kush. Aman." His voice was quiet but firm.
Both of them turned back.
Kush exhaled sharply. "What is it now?"
Mandeep pointed behind them, not openly, just enough. "Did you see him?"
Aman frowned. "See who?"
"Javed."
Aman looked back down the corridor. "So?"
Mandeep swallowed. "If he's here, Vedant's here."
The words landed heavier than expected.
Kush scoffed, trying to brush it off. "That doesn't mean anything."
Mandeep's eyes hardened. "We're not in class. Our bags aren't there."
Silence.
Kush's expression shifted, the realization hitting him all at once. "…damn."
Aman's voice dropped. "That means they could already be inside."
"Or on the way," Mandeep added. "And you know what that means."
Kush ran a hand through his hair, frustration flashing across his face. "Not again."
Aman shook his head quickly. "I'm not sitting there again. I swear."
Mandeep tried to steady the moment. "We still have time. Maybe they haven't taken them yet."
Aman nodded, forcing confidence. "Yeah. We can fix everything later. First, seats."
Kush straightened, decision settling in his posture. "Then move."
He placed a hand on Mandeep's shoulder. "Now."
They broke into a run.
Their footsteps echoed as they rushed up the stairs, breath growing uneven, bodies moving on urgency alone. Ground floor to first, first to second, their pace reckless but necessary. The corridor on the second floor stretched ahead, and at its center stood their classroom. 10th B.
At the far end of the floor, Harsh stepped out from the staircase, adjusting the strap of his bag. He paused when he saw them sprinting past, their faces tight with urgency.
He understood immediately.
Late. Seats. Trouble.
Without hesitation, he turned and followed.
Near the staff room, the wall clock ticked on. The time read 7:59. The second hand slid forward, s
teady and indifferent. Twenty-five seconds remained before the bell would ring and control would shift from students to authority.