Summer had arrived without asking anyone.
The sunlight spilled across the school courtyard like melted glass, too bright to look at for long. Heat shimmered above the concrete ground. The metal railings near the stairs were almost impossible to touch without pulling your hand away.
Inside the corridor, the ceiling fan clicked every three seconds.
Click.
Click.
Click.
I counted without realizing.
Across from me, near the old storage room at the end of the hallway, stood priya.
She looked annoyed.
Her curly hair moved slightly in the warm air from the broken window beside her. Strands of sunlight caught in it, making it look softer than it probably was.
"Are you even listening?" she asked.
I blinked.
She had been talking for a while. I knew that. I remembered her
There was a tree near the main gate. A large one. Old. I used to sit under it during lunch break last year
Used to.
My stomach tightened.
There was no tree.
Only empty space.
I stared harder.
Maybe I was remembering wrong.
Maybe the tree had been cut.
But that didn't make sense. It was huge. Older than the school itself. They couldn't just remove it without anyone noticing.
"priya," I said slowly, "when did they remove the tree near the gate?"
She frowned. "What tree?"
"The big one. The one near the bench."
"There's never been a tree there."
Her answer came too quickly.
I felt something cold move down my spine, despite the heat.
"Yes, there was," I said. "We used to sit there."
She looked at me like I had just said something embarrassing.
"There's only one tree in this school," she replied, pointing toward the playground. "Near the back wall.
That's it."
I didn't answer.
Because I could see it.
The empty space where it should have been.
Not just imagine.
See.
The wind passed through the courtyard.
For a moment—just a moment—I thought I heard leaves rustling.
But there were no leaves.
Only concrete.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The fan behind us continued counting time.
Or maybe counting something else.
Aira stepped closer. "You're scaring me. What tree are you talking about?"
I opened my mouth.
And suddenly—
I wasn't sure anymore.
An image flashed in my head. A bench under shade. Sunlight filtered through branches. Someone laughing.
But the image felt unstable.
Like a corrupted file.
I pressed my fingers against my temple.
"Forget it," I muttered.
Maybe I was mistaken.
Maybe memory plays tricks.
People forget things all the time.
Right?
I took out my phone.
Last year's photos.
Scrolling.
Scrolling.
There it was.
Annual Day — courtyard picture.
Students standing near the gate.
Behind them—
Nothing.
No tree.
Just open sky.
My heart started beating faster.
That photo wasn't right.
I remembered standing in the shade when that picture was taken.
I remembered complaining about fallen leaves sticking to my shoes.
I remembered—
"Why are you shaking?" priya asked quietly.
I hadn't noticed my hands trembling.
"I'm not," I said.
But I was.
And for the first time that summer,
The heat didn't feel warm.
It felt wrong.
"There's… a rare bird there," I said.
The excuse sounded weak even to me.
Aira turned slightly and glanced toward the courtyard. "Where?"
"Near the gate."
She squinted. "There's nothing there."
For a second, I almost insisted.
But something stopped me.
If I kept pushing, she would look at me the way people look at someone who says strange things.
"Forget it," I muttered.
She checked the time on her phone. "I have class."
She started walking away, then paused for a moment, as if expecting me to say something more.
This was it.
Now or never.
"I… I like you."
The words slipped out clumsily, as if they had been waiting for the wrong moment.
She froze.
Not shocked.
Just… uncomfortable.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her notebook.
"Shivans…" she said quietly.
So she did know something was different today.
But not what I meant.
"I have to go."
She didn't wait for my reply.
She walked down the corridor, sunlight following her shadow until she turned the corner and disappeared.
I stood there longer than necessary.
The hallway suddenly felt emptier.
Colder.
Section B.
I sat in my usual seat near the window.
The classroom smelled of chalk dust and warm wood.
Students talked. Chairs scraped against the floor. Someone laughed too loudly at the back.
Normal.
Everything normal.
So why did it feel slightly… misaligned?
"Shivans."
I didn't respond.
"Shivans!"
The sharp voice cut through my thoughts.
I looked up.
Our class teacher stood near the blackboard, chalk in hand, eyebrows raised.
"Where is your mind?" he asked. "If you don't want to study, you can step outside."
A few students chuckled.
Heat rose to my face.
"I'm sorry, sir," I said, standing up.
He studied me for a second longer.
Then, unexpectedly, he asked, "Fine. Answer this. What is the first Mughal ruler of India?"
Simple question.
Too simple.
"Babur," I replied immediately.
The teacher nodded slowly.
"Correct."
I sat down.
But something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
I knew I had answered correctly.
But the memory of learning that answer felt… blurred.
As if it had been inserted.
Like a copied file pasted into my mind.
I looked around the classroom.
Everything appeared the same.
Yet I had a strange, disturbing thought:
What if something here had changed—
And I simply hadn't noticed yet?
Outside the window, the playground was visible.
And beyond it—
The back wall.
And beyond that—
Nothing unusual.
Still…
For half a second—
I could have sworn the wall had been a different color.
"Child's question," I muttered under my breath.
The teacher stopped writing on the board.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, sir."
His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he turned back to the lesson.
But the classroom felt different after that.
As if I had said something I didn't fully remember saying.
Lunch period.
The noise level doubled instantly. Bags unzipped. Lunch boxes opened. The smell of fried snacks filled the air.
I stayed seated.
Didn't feel hungry.
Didn't feel anything, actually.
"Bro."
Abhinav dropped into the seat beside me.
"I heard sir almost kicked you out," he said, grinning. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I replied. "He asked something easy."
"Then why were you spacing out?"
I hesitated.
Because I wasn't sure how to explain that I felt like my brain had a delay.
Like thoughts were buffering.
"I just… wasn't focused."
Abhinav nudged my shoulder.
"Or maybe you were thinking about Section A."
I didn't deny it.
He leaned closer. "So? How much did you go?"
I stared at the desk.
"I told her."
His grin disappeared. "Wait. Told her what?"
"I like her."
He blinked. "You confessed?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
"She left."
That was the simplest way to say it.
Abhinav exhaled slowly. "That doesn't mean rejection."
"It doesn't mean acceptance either."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Students laughed loudly near the door. Someone was arguing about a cricket match. Completely normal day.
Too normal.
Abhinav rested his chin on his hand. "At least you had the courage. That's something."
I let out a dry laugh.
"Courage?"
"Yeah."
"She'll probably reject me. Why wouldn't she? I'm not exactly… impressive."
He frowned. "Don't talk like that."
"It's true."
I paused.
Then added quietly, "I don't even feel like myself lately."
That wasn't what I meant to say.
Abhinav looked at me carefully.
"What does that mean?"
I searched for words.
How do you explain that your memories feel edited?
That small details seem misplaced?
That sometimes you're not sure if something existed… or if you imagined it?
"It's nothing," I said finally.
He shook his head.
"You've been weird since morning."
Weird.
Maybe that was the right word.
I looked toward the classroom door.
For half a second—
I thought someone was standing there.
Watching.
But when I blinked—
There was no one.
"Hey," Abhinav said. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
I forced a nod.
But deep down, a quiet thought formed:
If something is changing…
Why am I the only one noticing?
And more importantly—
How long before I stop noticing too?
"Yeah… you're right," I said quietly. "I just need to control myself."
Abhinav stretched and stood up. "I'm heading to my class. Don't overthink everything."
He left.
The classroom slowly emptied.
The noise faded.
I rested my head on the desk.
Just for a minute.
Someone shook my shoulder.
"Wake up."
I blinked.
Abhinav was standing in front of me again.
But I was sure he had already left.
In his hand was a folded piece of paper.
"What is it?" I asked, my voice still heavy from sleep.
He smirked. "She gave this to me for you."
My heart skipped.
"For real?"
"For real. Read it."
My fingers felt colder than they should have as I unfolded the paper.
The handwriting was neat.
Recognizable.
Shivans,
I like you too.
If you're free tomorrow, meet me at the park near our school.
— Priya
For a moment—
Everything went silent.
The fan.
The corridor noise.
Even my thoughts.
"She said yes," I whispered.
Abhinav grinned. "Finally. You're in a relationship now."
I couldn't stop smiling.
All the doubt from earlier disappeared like it never existed.
Maybe I was overthinking.
Maybe everything was normal.
Maybe—
I folded the letter carefully and put it inside my notebook.
But something bothered me.
Very small.
Very subtle.
I looked at the paper again.
The ink.
It looked slightly faded.
As if it had been written a long time ago.
Not today.
"Did she give this just now?" I asked.
"Yeah," Abhinav said. "Outside Section A."
I nodded slowly.
Maybe it was just cheap pen ink.
Maybe I was imagining things again.
That night, I couldn't sleep properly.
I kept replaying tomorrow in my head.
What I would say.
How I would act.
How I would not look stupid.
For the first time in days, I felt excited.
Normal.
Happy.
Morning came faster than expected.
I woke up early.
Took a shower.
Even exercised a little.
Today is Sunday.
The best day of my life, I thought.
I reached for my notebook to check the letter again.
Just to make sure it was real.
I opened it.
Flipped the page.
Stopped.
The letter was still there.
But—
The last line was different.
Instead of:
— Priya
It now said:
— P.
My breathing slowed.
Maybe I hadn't noticed properly before.
Maybe she had always signed it that way.
Maybe.
I stared at the ink.
It looked darker now.
Fresh.
As if it had been written recently.
Very recently.
I reached the park fifteen minutes early.
The sky was pale blue. Children were playing near the swings. An old man fed crumbs to pigeons.
Everything looked ordinary.
I checked my phone.
No message.
It's fine, I told myself. She'll come.
Thirty minutes passed.
Then one hour.
The sun moved slightly lower.
The pigeons were gone.
The old man left.
She didn't come.
I stood up and walked around the entire park.
Bench near the fountain.
Empty.
Near the gate.
Empty.
Behind the trees.
Empty.
She wasn't there.
My chest felt tight.
Maybe I got the time wrong.
Maybe I read the letter wrong.
Hands shaking, I called Abhinav.
"She didn't come," I said immediately.
"What? That's impossible."
"I'm at the park. She's not here."
There was a pause.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"But I saw her give me the letter."
"What?"
"I even recorded it. As proof. I thought you wouldn't believe me."
My heart pounded harder.
"Send it."
A few seconds later, the video arrived.
I opened it.
The footage was shaky.
School corridor.
Section A door.
Priya walking out.
She looked around nervously.
Then—
She handed Abhinav a folded piece of paper.
It was real.
She had written it.
She had given it.
The video ended.
I replayed it.
Something felt off.
Her face.
Her expression.
She wasn't smiling.
She looked—
Afraid.
As if someone was watching her.
Or forcing her.
"She definitely gave it," Abhinav said through the phone. "Maybe her parents stopped her from coming."
Maybe.
That would be normal.
Logical.
But logic didn't explain the way her eyes looked in that video.
And it didn't explain something else.
In the background of the video—
For a single frame—
The wall behind her flickered.
Just slightly.
Like a screen glitch.
I replayed it again.
This time—
The flicker wasn't there.
The wall looked normal.
I froze.
"Did you edit this?" I asked.
"Edit what?"
"The video."
"No. Why would I?"
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know what was real anymore.
I went home.
Locked my door.
Played the video again.
This time—
Something else had changed.
The angle.
It was slightly different.
Like it had been recorded from a different position.
But the timestamp was the same.
My breathing became uneven.
This wasn't about her not coming.
This wasn't about rejection.
Something else was happening.
Something subtle.
Something that didn't want to be noticed.
And for the first time—
A terrifying thought formed in my mind:
What if reality isn't changing randomly?
What if it's correcting something?
And what if—
I'm the mistake?
(Chapter 1 Summary – The False Core
Summer begins normally at Shivans' school, but small inconsistencies disturb him. He remembers a tree that no one else recalls, and certain details around him feel slightly altered. Despite this unease, he confesses his feelings to Priya.
Later, through a letter delivered by his friend Abhinav, Priya appears to accept his confession and agrees to meet him at a park. Shivans feels hopeful again.
However, she never shows up.
Abhinav provides video proof that Priya truly gave the letter, but the footage itself begins to feel unstable and slightly altered. Subtle changes in the video make Shivans question what is real.
By the end of the chapter, Shivans realizes something is wrong with reality itself — and he may be the only one noticing.)
End of chapter 1 ;D