The night had a different silence.
Not the peaceful kind.Not the sleepy kind.
This silence had weight.
The wind moved slowly through the half-broken window of Aarav's room, carrying with it the distant sounds of traffic, barking dogs, and a siren somewhere far away. But inside his room, everything felt paused — like the world was holding its breath.
Aarav sat at his desk, staring at the notebook.
The notebook.
The one he wasn't supposed to have.
The one that had turned his life upside down in less than forty-eight hours.
His fingers hovered over its cover but didn't touch it.
Because touching it meant accepting something.
And accepting something meant there was no going back.
He exhaled slowly.
"Maybe I'm overthinking," he whispered to himself.
But deep down, he knew he wasn't.
The events of the last two days replayed in his mind again.
The accident.
The old man.
The strange warning.
And then that message.
"You were chosen."
Chosen.
Chosen for what?
He ran his hand through his hair and finally opened the notebook again.
The pages were still the same — filled with symbols he couldn't understand. Strange drawings. Circles inside triangles. Names that didn't look like names. Dates that didn't match any calendar he knew.
But one thing had changed.
There was a new line written at the bottom of the last page.
It wasn't there yesterday.
He was sure.
His heart started beating faster.
Slowly, carefully, he read it.
"Midnight. Rooftop. Alone."
Aarav looked at the clock.
11:27 PM.
His throat went dry.
This wasn't a coincidence.
Someone was playing with him.
Or something was.
He stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back with a harsh scraping sound.
"This is stupid," he muttered.
But even as he said it, he knew he was going.
Because curiosity is stronger than fear.
And sometimes, destiny doesn't knock — it drags you.
The Rooftop
11:58 PM.
The stairs felt longer than usual.
Each step echoed louder than it should have.
His building's rooftop was rarely used. Just water tanks, broken chairs, and old satellite dishes. No one came up here after 9 PM.
He pushed the heavy metal door open.
The night sky stretched above him — wide, dark, endless.
For a second, nothing happened.
He almost laughed at himself.
"See? Nothing. Just imagination."
But then—
"You came."
The voice wasn't loud.
It wasn't threatening.
But it was calm in a way that felt dangerous.
Aarav turned sharply.
A man stood near the water tank, leaning casually as if he had been waiting for hours.
He looked normal.
Too normal.
Mid-30s. Black jacket. Hands in pockets.
But his eyes…
His eyes looked like they had seen too much.
"Who are you?" Aarav asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
The man smiled faintly.
"That's not the right question."
"Then what is?"
The man pushed himself off the tank and stepped closer.
"The right question is… why are you?"
Aarav frowned. "Stop talking in riddles."
"You think this is a riddle?" The man's smile faded. "You have the notebook."
It wasn't a question.
It was a fact.
Aarav felt his pulse spike.
"How do you know about that?"
The man's eyes flickered with something — recognition.
"Because it was never meant for you."
The wind picked up suddenly.
Aarav swallowed.
"Then who was it meant for?"
The man stared at him for a long moment before answering.
"Someone who didn't survive."
Silence fell between them.
The words hung heavy in the air.
"What do you mean?" Aarav whispered.
"The accident," the man said softly. "The one you walked away from."
Aarav's chest tightened.
He remembered.
The screeching brakes.
The shattered glass.
The moment everything slowed down.
"You were not supposed to walk away," the man continued. "But you did."
A chill ran down Aarav's spine.
"Are you saying I was supposed to die?"
The man didn't respond directly.
Instead, he asked, "Do you remember the other car?"
Aarav's mind raced.
He tried to recall.
There had been another vehicle.
A black SUV.
He remembered headlights.
Then impact.
Then chaos.
"There was someone else," the man said quietly. "And he was carrying something."
The notebook.
Realization hit him like a wave.
"That's impossible," Aarav said quickly. "I found it near the road."
"You didn't find it," the man corrected. "It found you."
The rooftop suddenly felt smaller.
The air heavier.
"Stop," Aarav said. "Just stop. Tell me what this is about."
The man looked up at the sky before answering.
"There are things in this world you don't see. Forces that move people like pieces on a chessboard."
"And I'm what? A pawn?"
"For now."
Anger flared inside Aarav.
"I didn't ask for this!"
"No one ever does."
The man stepped closer again.
"Listen carefully. The notebook is a key. And once a key is activated, doors open."
"Activated?" Aarav asked.
"You read it."
"Yes, but I don't understand anything written in it!"
"You don't need to understand it."
The man's voice dropped lower.
"It understands you."
Aarav's stomach twisted.
"What does that even mean?"
"It means the moment you opened it… it marked you."
The words hit harder than anything before.
Marked.
"How do I unmark myself?" Aarav asked quickly.
The man's expression darkened.
"You don't."
A long pause followed.
"Then why are you here?" Aarav demanded. "To scare me?"
"No," the man replied calmly. "To warn you."
"About what?"
"They know."
"Who is 'they'?"
The man hesitated.
For the first time, he looked uncertain.
"You'll find out soon."
"That's not an answer!"
A sudden loud clang echoed from the stairwell door.
Both of them turned.
The metal door rattled violently — as if someone was trying to break it open.
Aarav's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Who's that?" he whispered.
The man's jaw tightened.
"They're faster than I expected."
The door burst open with a deafening crash.
Three figures stepped onto the rooftop.
Dressed in dark clothes.
Faces partially covered.
They moved in perfect synchronization.
Not rushing.
Not hesitating.
Just… advancing.
Aarav stepped back instinctively.
"What is this?" he breathed.
The man beside him muttered under his breath, "You should have stayed home."
One of the masked figures spoke.
"Hand over the notebook."
The voice was distorted, mechanical.
Aarav's blood ran cold.
"I don't have it!" he lied.
The figure tilted its head slightly.
"You are lying."
The second one took a step forward.
"We can take it from you."
The man beside Aarav suddenly moved.
Faster than Aarav thought possible.
In a blink, he was in front of the nearest masked figure.
There was a flash of movement.
A sharp crack.
The figure fell to the ground.
Aarav froze.
This wasn't normal.
This wasn't a street fight.
The other two reacted instantly.
One lunged forward.
The man blocked, twisted, and struck with precise force.
The rooftop turned chaotic.
Aarav stumbled backward, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.
These weren't random attackers.
They were trained.
And so was the man helping him.
"Run!" the man shouted.
Aarav didn't argue.
He turned and sprinted toward the stairwell.
But just as he reached it, a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind.
He gasped.
The third masked figure had circled around.
"You cannot escape."
Aarav's mind went blank.
Instinct took over.
He elbowed backward with all his strength.
The grip loosened.
He twisted free and shoved the attacker hard.
The figure stumbled near the edge of the rooftop.
For a terrifying second, it looked like they might fall.
But they regained balance.
The man fighting the others yelled, "Down the stairs! Now!"
Aarav didn't look back.
He ran.
Down the stairs.
Heart pounding.
Breath uneven.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
He didn't know whose.
He didn't want to know.
He burst into the corridor of his floor and rushed into his apartment, slamming the door shut.
Silence.
Just his heavy breathing.
He locked every bolt.
Every latch.
His hands were shaking.
What just happened?
He leaned against the door and slid down to the floor.
The notebook.
It was still in his room.
On the desk.
He crawled toward it slowly.
As if it might explode.
The pages began flipping on their own.
No wind.
No touch.
Just turning.
One page stopped in the middle.
A single sentence glowed faintly.
"The game has begun."
Aarav's chest tightened.
This wasn't coincidence anymore.
This wasn't imagination.
This was real.
Very real.
His phone buzzed suddenly.
He flinched violently.
Unknown number.
He stared at it for three full seconds before answering.
"…Hello?"
The voice on the other side was calm.
Too calm.
"You survived."
Aarav felt his blood turn cold.
"Who is this?"
"You don't know me," the voice replied. "But I know you."
His breathing grew shallow.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing."
A pause.
"For now."
The voice continued.
"You have something that belongs to us."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Aarav said, though his eyes were locked on the notebook.
"You do."
Another pause.
"Bring it tomorrow."
"Bring it where?"
"You'll receive the location."
"And if I don't?"
Silence.
Then—
"People around you might suffer."
The call ended.
Aarav stared at his phone.
The threat was clear.
This wasn't about him anymore.
They would hurt others.
His mother.
His friends.
Anyone close.
Fear slowly turned into something else.
Resolve.
He picked up the notebook again.
"This is because of you," he whispered.
But deep down, he knew.
It wasn't just because of the notebook.
It was because of him.
He walked to the window and looked out at the city lights.
So many people living normal lives.
Sleeping peacefully.
Unaware that somewhere in the darkness, forces were moving.
And now, he was part of it.
He didn't know what the notebook was.
He didn't know who those masked people were.
He didn't know who the mysterious man was.
But one thing became clear.
He had crossed a line tonight.
And once you cross certain lines…
There is no going back.
He turned back to the desk.
Opened the notebook again.
This time, instead of fear—
He felt something else.
A strange connection.
The symbols no longer looked random.
They looked… intentional.
As if they were waiting.
Waiting for him to understand.
Aarav whispered softly,
"If this is a game… I won't play by your rules."
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.
The storm was coming.
And this was only the beginning.