The tension in the air of the architecture block didn't dissipate with the end of the lecture.
It thickened, turning as heavy as the water-clogged streets of Mumbai outside.
I stood at the back of the hall, my fingers still tingling from the vibration of the phone.
The screen had gone dark again, reflecting my own wide, pale eyes.
I watched Myra rise from her seat like a queen ending an audience.
She slung her designer bag over her shoulder, her laughter ringing out like broken glass.
Ishaan was packing his bag too, his movements fluid and calm.
He glanced toward the back for a fleeting second.
My heart hammered, a frantic, hopeful rhythm.
But his eyes passed over me as if I were part of the shadows, landing instead on the rain outside.
He walked out, the doors swinging shut behind his broad shoulders.
"Come on, Avni. The 'graveyard' isn't going to clean itself."
Sia's voice snapped me back to the cold reality of the room.
She and Myra were walking toward the exit, their heels clicking in a mocking staccato.
I waited until the room was empty, the silence ringing in my ears.
I looked down at my sketchbook- the white sneaker print was a permanent scar on my art.
I walked toward the exit, my steps hesitant, my eyes scanning the dim corridor.
The figure I thought I saw earlier was gone.
The hallway smelled of damp concrete and old floor wax.
I reached the heavy glass main doors of the building.
A crowd of students had gathered there, trapped by the sudden intensity of the downpour.
The rain wasn't just falling; it was an assault, a curtain of grey blurring the world.
"Ugh, I'm not walking to the parking lot in this," Myra complained, her voice carrying over the crowd.
She was standing near the front, her phone held high as she checked her reflection.
"My driver is stuck in the Juhu traffic. This is a nightmare."
I stayed at the very back of the group, hugging my ruined sketchbook to my chest.
My phone vibrated again.
I pulled it out with trembling hands.
[Unknown]: Look at her, Avni.
[Unknown]: So afraid of a little water.
[Unknown]: Shall we see how she likes a real storm.
I looked up, my eyes searching the crowd, the balconies, the shadows under the stairwell.
Nothing. Just the sea of familiar, indifferent faces.
Suddenly, a loud, metallic clack echoed through the foyer.
The overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then died.
A collective gasp went up from the students.
In the sudden darkness, the sound of the rain became a roar.
Then, the emergency red lights kicked in, casting a bloody, rhythmic glow over everyone.
"What happened?" Sia shrieked. "Myra? Where are you?"
"I'm right here, stop yelling," Myra snapped, though her voice had lost its edge of boredom.
I saw her silhouette near the glass doors.
She was looking at her own phone, the screen glowing bright against her face.
Suddenly, her breath hitched. A small, sharp sound of confusion escaped her.
"What...what is this?" she whispered.
I moved a step closer, drawn by a morbid curiosity.
On Myra's screen, a video was playing.
It was live.
The camera angle was high, looking down at her from the ceiling of the foyer.
She was watching herself standing in the dark, surrounded by the red emergency glow.
A red digital box was centered on her face, like a target.
"Someone is...someone is filming me?" Myra's voice was trembling now.
She spun around, looking up at the security cameras, her eyes wide with a new kind of fear.
"Is this a joke? Who's doing this?"
The crowd started to murmur, phones being pulled out as the realization spread.
My phone buzzed in my palm.
[Unknown]: Watch the doors.
As if on cue, the heavy electronic locks on the main glass doors hissed.
They slid open, inviting the freezing monsoon wind and rain into the warm building.
The spray soaked the students in the front row.
"Close them! The sensor is glitching!" someone yelled.
But the doors wouldn't close. They stayed wide, like a mouth waiting to swallow someone.
Myra backed away from the spray, her expensive shoes splashing in a puddle that shouldn't have been there.
She tripped.
The poise, the elegance, the 'queen'- it all vanished in a second of clumsy terror.
She fell back into a decorative indoor fountain, the water soaking her silk blouse instantly.
The jasmine scent was replaced by the smell of chlorinated water and humiliation.
The crowd didn't move to help.
They were too busy recording.
The influencer was now the content.
I felt a cold hand on my shoulder.
I nearly screamed, spinning around so fast I almost lost my balance.
It was Ishaan.
He was standing right behind me, his face unreadable in the red light.
"Are you okay, Avni? You look like you've seen a ghost."
His voice was deep, steady, and for the first time in three years, it was directed at me.
I couldn't speak. I could only stare at him.
In the background, Myra was sobbing, her perfect hair matted to her face.
I looked back down at my phone.
[Unknown]: He finally saw you.
[Unknown]: You're welcome.
I looked up at Ishaan, but my mind was on the shadow I couldn't see.
The triangle had been drawn.
The golden boy was finally looking at the invisible girl.
But the shadow was the one who had cleared the path.
And the shadow didn't like to share.
"I...I'm fine," I managed to whisper to Ishaan.
He reached out, his hand hovering near my arm as if to steady me.
"The lights will be back soon. Stay close to me, it's chaotic in here."
I felt a rush of warmth, a dangerous spark of hope.
Then my phone screen lit up one last time before the battery died.
[Unknown]: Don't get too close to the light, Avni.
[Unknown]: The light creates the darkest shadows.
***
To be continued...