Elara's POV
The alarm went off and I woke up confused, not sure how long it had been ringing. My hand moved before I fully opened my eyes, fumbling on the side table until I found my phone and turned it off.
I shouldn't have slept this long.
That was the first clear thought I had.
I sat up and looked at the time, and my stomach dropped. Evelyn. School. I was already late, which meant she was going to be late, and I hated that feeling more than being late myself.
I turned to the other side of the bed without thinking. I always did that when I woke up.
No one was there.
I don't know what I had expected. Still, there was that brief second where my mind had to adjust, like it always did. The space beside me was empty, the sheets barely disturbed. He hadn't come to bed at all.
I didn't let myself think too much about it. There wasn't time.
I got up, shoved my feet into my slippers, and went straight to Evelyn's room. Her alarm was going off too. Loud. She was completely asleep, curled up and warm, unaware of the chaos already forming.
"Evelyn," I said, shaking her gently at first. "Wake up. It's time for school."
She didn't respond, just turned her face deeper into the pillow.
"We're already late," I said, more sharply this time, and that worked. Her eyes opened halfway, unfocused.
I left before she could say anything and went to wash my face. Cold water. Quick. I looked at myself in the mirror for barely a second and then turned away. There was no point.
In the kitchen, I started making sandwiches. Simple. Fast. I didn't think about variety or nutrition. Just something she would eat without arguing.
On the way there, I passed the living room.
Reyan was on the couch.
He was still in yesterday's clothes. Shirt wrinkled, buttons undone, hair a mess. Empty bottles on the floor, one tipped over near the table. He smelled like alcohol even from a distance.
I stopped for a moment, just standing there.
This wasn't shocking. It wasn't new. Still, there was this quiet heaviness in my chest that came every time I saw him like that. I had waited for him last night. I remembered checking the time again and again, telling myself I'd go to bed after the next ten minutes.
He hadn't come.
I tied my hair up tighter than necessary and went back to the kitchen.
Two sandwiches for Evelyn. One for me. I hesitated, then made another and left it covered near the sofa. I didn't know why I still did that.
"Evelyn," I called. "Hurry up."
I got dressed as fast as I could. Brushed my teeth. Took the quickest shower possible, barely enough to feel awake. By the time I came out, Evelyn was moving slowly through the hallway, half dressed, half asleep.
"Shoes," I said. "Your bag's here. Eat this."
I handed her a sandwich and packed the rest into her bag. Keys. Phone. Coat. It was cold outside.
I opened the front door and walked toward the car, already thinking about the traffic, about work, about everything I was going to be late for.
Then I realized she wasn't behind me.
I turned around.
Evelyn was standing in the doorway, the door still open. She wasn't eating. She wasn't moving. She was looking back into the house.
At her father.
My chest tightened in a way I didn't like.
"Evelyn," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Come on. We really have to go."
She looked at me, then ran, clutching the sandwich, and got into the car. I followed, started the engine, and pulled away without looking back.
I didn't have the energy to do that this morning.
Traffic. Of course there was traffic.
I tapped the steering wheel, then stopped, then tapped again. Red light. Another one. Why did every signal suddenly feel personal? I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and immediately regretted it. Late. We were late-late now, not the "we can still manage" kind.
I leaned forward as if that would make the cars ahead move faster. It didn't.
Evelyn, meanwhile, was leaning back in her seat like this was a Sunday drive. One knee pulled up, sandwich half-eaten, crumbs on her jacket. Completely unbothered.
I don't understand how she does that.
"Mom," she said casually, like I wasn't internally screaming, "remember what you promised me?"
I already knew where this was going. Of course I did.
I sighed, eyes still on the road. She remembers promises. Every single one. But ask her what came in the maths syllabus and suddenly it's a mystery of the universe.
"The adventure park," she added, smiling to herself. "You said if I did well on the test."
Amazing. Perfect timing. Because yes, let's discuss money I don't have while I'm stuck behind a bus that's clearly not moving.
"You haven't even got the result yet," I said. "Maybe wait before planning celebrations."
She shrugged. "I'm confident this time."
She says that every time. Every. Single. Time.
"You were confident last time too," I reminded her. "And the time before that."
She groaned. "Mom. Don't ruin it. I studied. Like, actually studied."
I glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "Did you cheat?"
Her head snapped toward me. "What? No!"
I smiled despite myself. "Relax. I'm joking."
She muttered something under her breath and took another bite of her sandwich.
Then, as if she hadn't already pushed her luck, she added, "When we go… can I bring my friends?"
Friends. Plural. Of course.
"How many friends?" I asked carefully.
She started counting on her fingers. "Okay so there's Rhea, and...Jessica, Rosy and Jason, Rebecca, an-"
"Alright, stop," I cut in. "Should we just invite the entire school while we're at it?"
Her eyes lit up. "Actually, that's not a bad-"
"Don't," I warned, laughing. "Absolutely don't."
She laughed too, loud and free, like traffic and tests and everything else didn't exist.
Somehow, we reached the school.
She unbuckled before I even parked properly, already halfway out of the car. I got out too, walked around to her side, straightened her jacket without thinking.
"Be good," I said. "And take care."
"I always do," she replied, then hugged me tight, quick and warm, kissed my cheek, and ran.
Just like that.
I stood there for a second longer than I should have, watching her disappear into the building, laughing with her friends, completely fine. Completely okay.
My phone rang.
The sound hit my chest before I even looked at the screen.
Dr. Victor.
My stomach dropped. I checked the time again. Oh no. No no no.
I wanted to swear...really swear...but there were children and parents everywhere.
Control Elara. Control.
So I swallowed it, got back into the car, and pulled out of the parking lot as fast as I could.
The lab was waiting.
I barely parked properly.
Keys out, door slammed, and I was already moving. The cold air burned my lungs as I crossed the building, my steps too fast, my bag slipping off my shoulder. I almost missed the first step inside and swore under my breath, caught myself, didn't slow down.
Up the stairs. One floor. Two.
I could already feel that familiar pressure settling behind my eyes, the kind that comes when I'm late and I know I shouldn't be.
I was halfway to convincing myself that maybe, just maybe, I hadn't messed up that badly when I turned the corner.
And there they were.
A small group, clustered near the glass wall of the main lab. Lab coats. Coffee cups. Serious faces. And right in the middle of them
Dr. Victor.
The sound I made, half a breath, half a sigh, betrayed me.
Every head turned.
Great.
I straightened instinctively, tried to smooth the rush off my face, like that was even possible. My heart was still running faster than my legs had.
Victor didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. He just looked at me over his glasses, that calm, measured stare that always made me feel like I was a student again.
"You're late," he said, not accusing. Just stating it.
I opened my mouth, already forming excuses I didn't want to say out loud. Traffic. School. Morning.
None of them sounded good enough even in my head.
"I know," I said instead. "I—"
He held up a hand, stopping me gently. That somehow made it worse.
"We've been waiting," he continued, glancing briefly at the others before looking back at me. "This isn't a discussion we could start without you."
That landed heavier than any scolding.
Around us, the lab felt suddenly too quiet. Machines humming. Screens glowing. Everyone pretending not to stare while absolutely staring.
My chest tightened, not panic, not fear.
Something sharper.
Responsibility.
"Come," Victor said, turning toward the lab doors. "We need to talk."
And just like that, the day officially stopped being mine.
I followed him in.
The doors slid shut behind us, muting the outside noise. The lab lights were already on full, too bright for a morning like this. Screens filled with data I hadn't looked at yet. My name sat on one of them, small and unavoidable.
Victor didn't rush. He never did. That was his thing, move slowly so everyone else felt fast and wrong.
"Sit," he said.
I didn't. Not immediately. I dropped my bag on the nearest chair instead, bought myself two seconds by pretending to adjust the strap.
"What happened?" I asked. Straight to it. If something had gone wrong, I wanted it clean and quick.
Victor folded his hands on the table. "We ran the overnight results again."
Again. That word never came with good news.
"And?" I said, already scanning the screen, numbers blurring because I hadn't had enough caffeine or enough sleep or enough of anything lately.
"And they don't match yesterday's projection."
I finally sat.
That pressure behind my eyes came back, stronger this time. "That's not possible. The margin was stable. We triple-checked the..."
"I know," he said calmly. "You did."
The others were quiet now. Too quiet. I could feel them watching me without looking directly at me, like I might crack if they stared too hard.
I leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Show me."
One of the junior researchers pulled up the graph. The line dipped. Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone outside this room to panic.
Enough for me to.
"That's not noise," I said slowly. "That's a pattern."
Victor nodded once. "That's what concerned us."
My mouth went dry. Patterns meant causes. Causes meant consequences. And consequences meant delays, funding issues, ethics boards, meetings that stretched for months while people pretended time was something we had plenty of.
"When did this start?" I asked.
"Late last night."
I thought of the couch. The bottles. The way I'd stepped around them this morning like they were furniture instead of proof. I pushed the thought away hard.
"Did anyone alter the protocol?" I asked.
A pause. Just a second too long.
I looked up. "Someone did."
One of them shifted. "It was minor," she said quickly. "Within acceptable limits. We didn't think-"
"You didn't think," I repeated, quieter than I meant to. I closed my eyes for a moment, forced myself to breathe. Losing my temper here would help no one. Especially not me.
Victor watched me carefully. "Elara..." he called out calmly.
I kept staring at the screen.
A tiny dip. A small deviation. The kind people ignored until it wasn't small anymore.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Once.
I didn't look. I already knew it wasn't personal. It never was, this early.
"I need the raw data," I said finally. "All of it. No summaries. No interpretations."
"And Victor," I added, standing up, already feeling that familiar pull toward the problem, the one place where things still made sense. "No one touches anything until I say so."
As I moved toward my workstation, my phone buzzed again.
This time, I couldn't ignore it.
I glanced down.
Unknown number.
Before I could pick up the call it ended.
I didn't bother calling the number again because too much was going on inside my head.
I slid the phone face-down on the desk and turned back to the only thing that ever behaved when I needed it to.
Data.
I logged in and pulled up all the raw files. Rows and rows of numbers spilled across the screen. Familiar. Reliable. At least on the surface.
Okay. Start clean.
I opened the simulation logs first, cross-referenced them with last night's run. Same parameters. Same boundary conditions. I scrolled slower, looking for drift, signal-to-noise ratio, variance spikes, anything that shouldn't be there.
There it was again.
Small. Annoyingly small.
I ran a quick residual analysis, jaw tightening as the graph rendered. The deviation wasn't random. It had structure. Memory.
"That's not possible," I muttered, fingers already moving, pulling up the calibration files. We'd done a triple check. I remembered doing it. Late night. Cold coffee. Victor hovering but not interfering.
Unless...
"Hey," a voice said beside me, casual, familiar. "Are you cramping again or is the universe just personally attacking you today?"
I didn't even look up. I didn't have to.
Anika.
"Both," I said. "Definitely both."
She leaned against the edge of my desk, peering at the screen. "Wow. You look like you're about to fistfight a spreadsheet."
"I triple-checked this," I said, finally turning toward her. The words spilled out faster than I meant them to. "I know I did. The error margins were stable, the projections aligned, the confidence interval...everything was clean. And now suddenly it's not, and Victor just dumps all of this on me like I didn't just walk in five minutes ago."
I gestured vaguely at the screen. The files. The responsibility.
"He has no mercy," I added. "None. Zero."
Anika hummed, unconcerned, like this was just another Tuesday...which, to her credit, it probably was. "Victor hasn't had mercy since the early 2000s," she said. "That's not new."
I rubbed my face with both hands, then dropped them back onto the keyboard.
"I don't even know where this instability is coming from. It's subtle, but it's there. And subtle is worse. Subtle means it hides."
She tilted her head, studying me instead of the data. "Okay, first of all...breathe. Second of all..."
My stomach betrayed me with a low, very obvious growl.
She grinned. "...you haven't eaten."
"I had half a sandwich," I said weakly.
"At dawn doesn't count," she replied. "And before you argue...yes, I heard your stomach, and yes, you look like you're about to collapse into your own workstation."
I sighed, leaning back in the chair. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving that hollow, shaky feeling behind. "I don't have time."
"You don't have brain function without caffeine," she said. "Which means you do have time. We grab coffee. Ten minutes. Then you come back and bully the data properly."
I hesitated, eyes flicking toward Victor's glass-walled office.
Anika followed my gaze and lowered her voice. "Relax. He's in a meeting. We'll be back before he finishes intimidating anyone."
I laughed despite myself. A short, surprised sound. "That's why you're my best friend," I said. "I love you so much."
"Correct," she said, already pushing off the desk. "Now come on. Before Victor notices and decides to assign you three more problems just for standing still."
I grabbed my phone, slipped it into my pocket without checking it, and stood.
For the first time since morning, my shoulders dropped...just a little...as we headed toward the door.
The lab hallway stretched out in front of us, all glass panels and polished floors, the kind of place that looked calm even when everyone inside was running on stress and deadlines. Our footsteps echoed softly as we walked, the hum of machines fading into background noise.
"So," Anika said, swinging her ID card around her finger, "are we still pretending we'll go shopping after work, or are we admitting that we'll be too tired and just order food instead?"
I snorted. "Let's not expose ourselves like that before noon."
"I'm serious," she insisted. "I need new shoes. The kind that say I have my life together even when I don't."
I shook my head. "I was thinking more like sweaters. Something warm. Something that doesn't smell like lab chemicals."
"Wow, listen to us," Anika said. "Two grown women planning retail therapy like it's a coping mechanism."
"It is a coping mechanism," I replied. "A very valid one."
We were mid-laugh, mid-complaint, mid-normal...when our footsteps stopped in unison.
Because the voice behind us was unmistakable.
"So," a male voice drawled, amused, "are we bunking work now, or is this a very slow scientific experiment involving walking?"
Anika froze for half a second. I felt it too...that instinctive oh no...before we both turned around.
And there he was.
Andrew.
Arms crossed, lab coat unbuttoned, that familiar grin on his face like he'd just caught us committing a crime much bigger than coffee.
I relaxed immediately.
Anika burst out laughing. "Oh my God, don't do that."
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "What? I thought I'd practice my intimidating senior-scientist voice."
"You sound like a disappointed uncle," I said.
He gasped dramatically. "Wow. Hurtful."
Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Don't tell me you two were planning to sneak out, have drinks at the café, and abandon me."
Anika rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Please. As if we'd survive Victor's wrath without witnesses."
"Also," I added, "this is coffee. Not drinks. We're stressed, not irresponsible."
Andrew smirked. "Sure. Coffee. That's what they all say."
He glanced between us, then sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine. I'll forgive you...on one condition."
Anika groaned. "Here it comes."
"I'm coming with you."
I laughed. "You were never not coming."
"Good," he said, already turning toward the elevator. "Because if I have to suffer through today, I'm not doing it caffeine-free."
As we followed him, the lab noise swallowed us again, keyboards, low conversations, machines ticking along.
For a few moments, it almost felt normal.
The café hit us before anything else did.
Warm. Coffee-heavy. That soft kind of music playing that you don't really listen to, but you'd miss if it stopped. The noise of the lab disappeared the moment the door closed behind us, like someone had pressed mute on my brain.
I hadn't realised how tense I was until my shoulders dropped on their own.
Andrew was already at the counter, barely glancing at the menu.
"Arnold Palmer," he said, like it was his birthright.
Anika squinted at him. "You always get that."
"Because it's good," he replied.
"There are at least fifteen other drinks on that board," she said, pointing vaguely. "How is your stomach not upset with that abomination?"
Andrew looked offended. "Abomination? Please. That's rich coming from someone who orders the same salted caramel latte every single day."
"It's called consistency," Anika shot back. "Try it sometime."
I smiled to myself, listening to them bicker like they'd done this a hundred times before.
When it was my turn, I hesitated for half a second...too many options, too little brainpower. "Mocha frappe," I said finally. Cold. Sweet. Reliable.
We paid, grabbed our drinks, and slid into a table near the window. Sunlight filtered in just enough to make the place feel alive, not sterile. My hands wrapped around the cup instinctively, like warmth was something I needed to hold onto.
Andrew took a sip and sighed dramatically. "See? Perfection."
Anika rolled her eyes again. "One day, I'm going to order for you just to see what happens."
"Cruel," he said. "Truly cruel."
For a while, we talked about nothing important.
A sale Anika wanted to check out after work.
Andrew complaining about a new intern who kept calling him sir.
Me half-listening, half-watching the foam settle on my drink.
Normal things. Comfortable things.
"I swear," Anika said, stirring her latte, "if I don't buy at least one unnecessary item today, I might actually lose my mind."
"That's capitalism speaking," Andrew said. "Very persuasive."
I laughed softly, sipping my frappe. The sugar hit almost immediately, grounding me. For a moment...just a moment...it felt like this was all there was. Coffee. Friends. Complaints that didn't matter in the long run.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Once.
I ignored it.
Anika leaned back in her chair. "You know what we need?" she said. "A day where Victor doesn't assign emergency-level work before noon."
Andrew scoffed. "So… fiction."
"Let me dream," she said.
I smiled, but my focus drifted. The vibration lingered in my leg like an echo. Unknown number. Again, probably. Or a reminder. Or nothing.
"You okay?" Anika asked, catching the shift.
"Yeah," I said automatically. "Just tired."
She nodded, accepting it the way friends do when they know pushing won't help. "Fair."
We sat there a little longer, sipping, talking, pretending the day hadn't already started demanding more than it should.
I told myself I'd check my phone after this.
Just one more minute of normal first.
After we were done gossiping, we threw our empty coffee cups into the dustbin and we stepped out of the café, the door swinging shut behind us. The morning air hit my face, sharp and cold, and for a second, I thought I could breathe. Almost.
Andrew and Anika were chatting ahead of me and laughing.
I slowed, my hand going instinctively to my pocket. My phone. I had promised myself I'd check it after the coffee.
I pulled it out, thumb hovering over the screen. And then my chest dropped.
300 notifications.
Missed calls. Messages. Some from Reyan. Some from numbers I didn't recognize. So many I couldn't even scroll past fast enough. My fingers froze. My brain refused to process.
Andrew and Anika noticed me stopping.
"Uh… Elara?" Anika's voice cut through, concerned.
Andrew turned around too. "Why'd you just… stop?"
I couldn't speak. My eyes stayed locked on the screen. My chest felt like it was being squeezed.
Andrew leaned over my shoulder and his jaw dropped. "Oh my God… I haven't even gotten this many calls from my mother in a year."
Anika peeked at my phone. "Oh my God… same here. Even my fiancé, Anirudh, doesn't blow up my phone like this."
I swallowed hard. My fingers moved on their own, scrolling through the notifications, stopping at Reyan's name. My stomach dropped.
"Guys… wait," I said finally, my voice shaking. "I… I need to take this."
They nodded immediately. "Ye-yeah of course...we'll...j-just wait." Andrew said quietly.
I stepped back a little, and decided to open my messages first.
Message: Reyan
From: Where the hell are you? Pick up your damn phone!!
From: Our daughter is sick and is in the hospital right now. Pick up your phone!!
From: ELARA WE NEED TO TALK PICK UP YOUR DAMN PHONE.
I froze.
I immediately picked up the incoming call and answered it.
"Hello?" I said.
"Dr. Elara Myles?" A woman's voice answered.
"Yes… this is Dr. Myles."
"Oh, thank God," the woman breathed. "We've been trying to reach you. This is Evelyn's homeroom teacher. We're at Central Hospital. Your daughter...she fainted at school. She was unconscious. We got her here as fast as we could, and the nurse is with her. Your husband, Reyan, is here as well. We needed to let you know immediately."
My knees felt weak. My chest tightened.
"Unconscious…? Is she—okay?" I managed to croak.
"She's stable for now," the teacher said quickly. "But the doctors are running tests. Please, come as soon as possible."
I nodded, though she couldn't see me. My hands clenched around the phone so tight I thought it might shatter.
"I'm… I'll be there immediately," I said. My voice was brittle. Shaking.
I hung up and stared at the blank screen for a second, the world spinning. Reyan's messages kept flashing through my mind, but none of it mattered now.
Andrew's hand touched my shoulder gently. "We'll drive you," he said firmly.
Anika's grip was steady. "Yeah. Let's go. No questions."