The dining hall was warm and inviting, the rich aroma of freshly cooked food filling the air. The table was set with care, the polished wood gleaming under the soft light of the chandelier. A variety of dishes were laid out in an appetizing display—steaming bowls of rice, creamy paneer, tender chicken, crisp salad, warm rotis, and a bowl of cool curd. It was a spread that promised a satisfying meal.

I found myself seated beside Abhimanyu, even though I had tried to sit elsewhere. My usual seat was occupied by Mrs. Sharma tonight, and Mom had insisted I sit next to Abhimanyu instead. Great, just what I need—forced proximity with my annoying rival. As much as I wanted to put some distance between myself and Abhimanyu, there was no arguing with Mom's decision. I shifted in my seat, acutely aware of Abhimanyu's presence beside me, an irritating reminder of our earlier encounter.

The adults were deep in conversation, reminiscing about the old days, their laughter filling the room. Mrs. Sharma, with her kind smile, turned to me during a lull in the conversation.

"Vani, have you thought about applying for the entrance exam for Blackthorn Academy?" she asked, her tone warm and encouraging. "Abhimanyu is preparing for it, and I think it would be wonderful if you both got in. It's a prestigious school, and I'm sure you have what it takes."

Of course, they would bring that up, I thought, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. Mom's face lit up at the idea, nodding in agreement. "That would be amazing, wouldn't it, Vani? Abhimanyu, you should share some tips with her, help her out."

Abhimanyu nodded, but I noticed a mischievous glint in his eye. "Of course, I'd be happy to help." Oh great, just what I need—him "helping" me. This will be a disaster. I really need to find a way to avoid him at all costs.

As the conversation continued, with the adults exchanging stories and memories, I suddenly felt a sharp kick at my foot under the table. Startled, I jerked my hand, causing the spoonful of curd I was holding to slip and tumble onto my top, leaving a cold, wet stain.

Perfect, just perfect! How am I going to explain this? I heard Abhimanyu chuckle quietly, but his amusement was short-lived. Mrs. Sharma gave him a disapproving look. "Abhimanyu, behave," she scolded gently.

Before I could say anything, Mom dismissed the incident with a wave of her hand. "It's nothing. Vani can be a bit clumsy sometimes. Go on, Vani, change into something else."

Clumsy? Great, now I'm just a walking disaster in front of everyone. The warmth of embarrassment crept up my cheeks, and I could practically hear the laughter bubbling beneath the surface. I felt a surge of frustration rising within me, mixing with my anger.

In a moment of impulse, I pushed back my chair and stood up, my heart racing. "Sorry, everyone," I muttered, stealing a sharp glance at Abhimanyu, who wore that infuriatingly amused expression. This is just perfect, I thought as I turned and made my way out of the dining hall, eager to escape the laughter that I was sure would follow.

I headed upstairs to my room, my emotions churning like a storm. Ugh, why did I let him get to me like this? After changing into a comfortable Mickey Mouse top, I tried to push down the irritation bubbling inside me. I took a deep breath, hoping the familiar fabric would ease my frustration. As I unlocked the door to go back downstairs, I was surprised to find Abhimanyu standing there, his expression unexpectedly serious.

"What do you want now?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended as I eyed him warily. Great, just what I need—a confrontation.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice low. "I just wanted to say sorry, Vani. I didn't mean to make you spill your food. I was just messing around."

I blinked, caught off guard by his apology. Wait, is he actually apologizing? For a moment, I wasn't sure how to respond. I had expected more teasing, not this sincerity.

"You... you're actually sorry?" I asked, my tone softening slightly, curiosity edging out my annoyance.

Abhimanyu nodded, looking at me with genuine regret. "Yeah, I am. I didn't want to upset you. I was just trying to have a little fun."

I studied his face, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all I found was a boy who, for once, seemed to be genuinely remorseful. Maybe he isn't as infuriating as I thought?

"Okay," I said finally, crossing my arms defensively. "Just don't do it again."

A smile slowly crept onto his face, lightening the mood. "Deal. But you know, you might want to be careful in that top. I wouldn't want you to spill anything on Mickey."

I frowned, confused. "Mickey?"

He pointed at my shirt with a grin. "Yeah, you know, like the mouse on your shirt. Maybe I should start calling you 'Mickey' from now on."

My eyes narrowed as I glared at him. "Don't you dare."

But he just laughed, the earlier tension between us dissolving like mist in the morning sun as he stepped back to let me pass. "We'll see, Mickey. We'll see."

***

The next morning, I woke up to the blaring sound of my alarm clock at 5:00. I groaned as I reached out to silence it for the tenth time. I'm not exactly a morning person, and waking up this early always felt like a punishment. Reluctantly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The room was still dark, with only a faint hint of light seeping in from the edges of the curtains.

Dragging myself to the window, I opened it wide, letting the cool morning breeze wash over me. Okay, that feels nice. It was refreshing, a gentle nudge to shake off the lingering drowsiness. After brushing my teeth and splashing my face with cold water to fully wake up, I changed into a tracksuit and laced up my running shoes. I really need this. Clearing my head is essential today.

The neighborhood was eerily quiet as I jogged out of the house. The only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the rhythmic tapping of my shoes against the pavement. The park, just a few blocks away, was empty except for a few birds chirping in the trees. I ran for a good half hour, my breath steadying as I settled into a comfortable pace, feeling the burn in my muscles as they warmed up. This routine always grounds me, especially when the world still sleeps.

As I was about to head back home, I noticed a boy, probably in his early teens, pasting posters on the walls and poles. He wore glasses, and despite his young age, there was a noticeable sadness in his eyes. What's going on with him? Curious, I approached him.

"Hey," I called out gently, not wanting to startle him. "What are you doing?"

He looked up at me, surprised by my presence, then handed me one of the posters. I glanced at it, instantly recognizing the face. It was the same boy I had seen while scrolling online about Blackthorn Academy—the missing student, Varun Verma.

"That's Varun Verma, right?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

The boy nodded, his voice quiet but determined. "He's my brother. I know he didn't leave us, and he's not what they say he is. I just want to find him."

His brother? The weight of his words settled heavily in the air, making my heart ache for him. What must he be going through?

I didn't know what to say. His belief in his brother's innocence was unwavering, even if the odds were stacked against him. Offering him a reassuring smile, I asked, "Where do you live?"

He pointed toward the opposite end of the city, and I was surprised. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?"

"My parents don't want me involved in this," he admitted, looking away, the weight of his words hanging in the air. I can only imagine how tough that must be for him. "But I love my brother, and I can't just sit around and do nothing."

Before he left, he handed me another poster. "If you find anything, please call the number."

I nodded, watching as he hopped on his cycle and rode off. "Wait! What's your name?" I called after him.

"Rahul!" he shouted back, his voice carrying over the empty street as he pedaled away.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the poster in my hand, Varun's face staring back at me. His eyes, once full of life, now seemed distant, like he was caught in a place between here and somewhere else. Something about it felt off, but I didn't dwell on it too much. I tucked the poster into my pocket and jogged back home.

After a quick shower, I changed into some comfortable clothes and pinned a to-do list for the day on my corkboard. So much to cover before the entrance exam. Focus, Vani. I had no time to waste. Two hours later, both of my parents finally woke up. I could hear them moving around, getting ready for work.

Mom popped her head into my room, smiling warmly. "I've already made your lunch, Vani. It's in the fridge. Don't forget to eat." She kissed my forehead before heading out the door.

"Thanks, Mom," I replied, feeling a rush of affection for her. She always knows how to make me feel cared for. I turned back to my corkboard, crossing off the tasks I had completed so far. The day stretched out before me, a lazy afternoon turning into an evening that felt too long and too short at the same time.

After hours of studying, I closed my books, satisfied with the progress I had made. My back ached from sitting too long, so I stretched, feeling the tension ease out of my muscles. Grabbing my laptop, I decided to unwind with an episode of Bridgerton. Netflix is my escape—a way to disconnect from the pressure of exams and everything else.

But as I watched, my mind kept drifting back to the morning, to the poster Rahul had given me. What's going on with Varun? The doorbell rang, pulling me out of my thoughts. I paused the show and went downstairs to open the door. My parents were home, looking tired but happy to be back.

"How was your day, Vani?" Dad asked as he stepped inside, carrying his briefcase.

"Good. Just studied most of the day," I replied, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Don't work too hard," Mom added, giving me a knowing look. "You need to take breaks too."

"I know, I know," I assured her, smiling, though I felt a bit guilty. Am I really taking enough breaks?

They headed off to freshen up, and I returned to my room. I should have gotten back to studying, but my mind wandered to the poster again. Varun Verma. Why does his disappearance feel so unsettling? I pulled out my phone and typed his name into Google, hoping to find more information.

There wasn't much—just a few articles about him leaving school and going missing. But then I found his social media profiles, and curiosity got the better of me. I clicked through his posts, scrolling through pictures of him with his school friends, his brother, and various events. Just a typical teenager's life, I thought, relieved.

But the last post caught my attention. It was a video, uploaded a month ago, around the time he went missing. The video was only thirty seconds long, shot in a dark setting. The camera was shaky, and Varun looked sweaty, his breath coming in quick gasps. There was no context, no explanation, just those brief seconds of him looking directly into the camera, his eyes wide with fear.

I felt a chill run down my spine. What was happening to him? Something about the video felt off, but I couldn't put my finger on what. I closed the app on my phone, deciding I had seen enough. Maybe it was just a prank, or maybe it was something more. Either way, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

I headed downstairs for dinner, trying to shake off the unease that clung to me. I can't let this get to me. I have to focus on my exam and not get distracted by something I can't change.

A u t h o r's   N o t e

Hello, lovely blueberries!

Chapter Four is here, and I'm excited to hear your thoughts! How are you feeling about the characters and their evolving storylines? Did anything in this chapter catch your eye?

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