Location: Government Model Senior Secondary School, Class 10-B
Time: 7:38 a.m.
The bell hadn't rung yet.
The class was still half-empty.
And Rohit was already conducting international business on a school bench using three torn notebooks, a leaky pen, and a face that could convince you he ran a Fortune 500 company from a tiffin box.
Veer leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the madness unfold like a bored wolf watching squirrels play poker.
Rohit slammed his fist on a desk.
"Listen, Gregor, I told you—two Pocky sticks for one imported pencil. Final offer. You don't get better rates in this economy!"
"Economy?" Gregor blinked. "This is school."
"This is the economy!" Rohit declared, spreading his arms dramatically. "Inflation is real. My supplier—aka Cherry's dad—just raised muffin prices by twenty paise. I'm bleeding here."
Veer raised an eyebrow from his corner.
"You're negotiating with a seventh grader over snack-trade like you're smuggling diamonds."
Rohit turned to him with a scandalized look.
"Snack-trading is a high-risk market, Veer. You wouldn't understand. You're emotionally constipated and philosophically bankrupt."
"You're fiscally obese," Veer shot back.
Rohit pretended to be wounded and slumped into the chair like a deflating beanbag.
"Tell me something," Veer said, walking over lazily. "How are you already sweating before the school day starts?"
"It's called pre-capitalism warm-up. You think Ambani wakes up dry?"
"Ambani doesn't wear a belt made of rubber bands."
"That's resourceful tailoring! It adjusts to my moods."
Veer just shook his head, smirking. Rohit's shirt buttons were fighting for their lives, and every time he laughed, one of them whispered a prayer.
Rohit leaned forward, lowering his voice like he was about to sell nuclear secrets.
"By the way, Veer… you see Riya today?"
Veer's smile died like a bug under a boot.
"Don't start."
"I'm just saying," Rohit grinned, "she looked at you like she wanted to burn your soul with a sarcasm beam. That's basically affection in her dialect."
"She's a walking roast machine with no off switch," Veer muttered. "Every time she speaks, my IQ files a restraining order."
"Exactly! That's chemistry."
Veer sighed and made for his seat, flinging his bag like a dead pigeon.
"I'd rather romance a stapler."
Rohit snorted. "Staplers don't have eyebrows that say 'I'll end you'."
Before Veer could fire back, the classroom door swung open like it owed the wind money.
Riya entered.
She looked around once, noticed Veer, and smiled sweetly.
Then, without breaking stride, she said:
"Your hair looks like it lost a custody battle with gravity."
And walked right past.
Rohit exploded into laughter.
Veer blinked. "…What does that even mean?"
"She just dismantled your hairstyle's self-esteem, bro. You need therapy."
"I need scissors."
At this point, the class had filled halfway. Some kids were scribbling notes they'd never read again, others were fighting over chairs like it was musical thrones. The fan squeaked overhead with the rhythm of a dying hamster.
Veer sat down, resting his arms on the desk, but something was off.
He looked out the window. The trees were still. The wind had paused. The world… was holding its breath?
He shook it off.
Then: Rohit flopped beside him, carrying a giant packet of something.
"Tell me," Veer asked flatly, "how did you smuggle three butter naans and half a samosa in your blazer?"
Rohit opened the packet like it was ancient treasure.
"Easy. I told the canteen guy it was for charity. He didn't ask which one."
"What charity?"
"The Rohit Rehabilitation Fund. For boys struggling under the oppression of their own hunger."
Veer stared at him like one might stare at an owl tap-dancing.
"You know you're the only person who could turn carbohydrates into character traits?"
"I'm layered like a paratha."
A long silence followed. Rohit chewed noisily, then turned and said:
"You good?"
Veer blinked.
"...What?"
"You've been quieter than usual today."
Veer's smirk flickered. "Maybe I'm evolving."
"Into what? A lamp post?"
Veer didn't reply. He looked outside again. That stillness… it hadn't passed.
Rohit kept eating.
The world kept spinning.
But deep inside Veer's chest, just for a second, something seemed to twitch.
Like something ancient rolling in its sleep.
He ignored it.
For now.
---
The bell rang, loud and sharp—like it was waking up from a deep, disturbed sleep. Students scrambled toward the door, and the class started to empty.
Veer walked out of the classroom, trying to shake off the heaviness he'd felt earlier. His thoughts were clearer now, but there was still something off. Like a static buzzing on the edge of his brain.
"Hey, Veer!" Cherry's voice rang out before he could escape the crowd.
Veer rolled his eyes inwardly. Cherry. The girl who'd spent the entire week trying to drag him into an impromptu scavenger hunt or challenging him to guess the mystery flavor of the day.
Her voice cut through his thoughts like a cheerfully charged electric shock.
She bounced up to him, her ever-present energy creating a whirlwind of chaos in her wake.
"You've been acting all serious today! What's going on? The mood's too quiet. No mystery. No adventure. You're missing the fun!"
Veer didn't even try to hide his annoyance.
"Cherry, your version of 'fun' involves me getting locked in a broom closet with a bucket of flour and a rubber chicken. I don't need that level of excitement."
"Oh, come on!" Cherry grinned. "Don't tell me you don't love a good mystery. Like, what is going on with you? Why the long face? There's literally nothing exciting happening. Nothing!"
"Yeah," Veer muttered. "Like my sanity."
"Sanity's overrated!" She beamed as though she had just discovered the secret to eternal happiness.
He raised an eyebrow. "Who raised you, a circus clown?"
"Circus clowns are misunderstood geniuses, okay?"
Before he could respond, the biology lab door opened, and Mrs. Gupta—his least favorite teacher, with her ridiculously large glasses and a voice that could shatter glass—stepped out, looking over her thick glasses at the students.
"Alright, class, stop standing around. The lesson's about to begin. Move it, or I'll give you an impromptu lecture on mitochondria."
Veer groaned, but Cherry—of course—was already skipping ahead, pulling him along.
"Come on, Veer! Live a little!"
He followed her with the same enthusiasm a cactus would have for a road trip.
---
The lab was eerily quiet. Everyone was gathered around the long wooden table, leaning over textbooks, lab notebooks, and half-assembled diagrams of the human body. Mrs. Gupta was blabbering on about cellular respiration, but Veer's mind was elsewhere, trying to focus on the lesson and not on the gnawing feeling in his chest.
Rohit, of course, was sitting next to him, playing with a paperclip and making it flicker in his hands like a magic trick. Every now and then, he'd whisper something to Veer, but the words blurred together in Veer's head.
Then, it happened.
The pulse.
It wasn't like anything Veer had felt before.
One moment, he was tapping his pen absentmindedly on the table. The next, it was as though someone had plugged his chest into an electric socket.
A shock. A jolt.
A sudden, sharp pain in his ribs. It felt like his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest, but also like it was trying to stop, all at once. The blood in his veins was frozen, then rushed, then stopped, then rushed again. A dizzying, nauseating pulse that made the room seem like it was collapsing inward.
Veer froze.
His hand gripped the table, and his vision blurred, but not enough to lose his composure. He fought to steady his breath, forcing his chest to move in rhythmic, controlled inhales. He couldn't let it show. He couldn't let anyone see how bad it was.
His heart rate spiked. But no one seemed to notice.
"Veer?" Cherry's voice cut through the fog in his mind. "You okay?"
He barely heard her. He was too busy fighting his own body's betrayal.
He forced a smile, trying to act normal.
"Yeah. Fine." His voice was hoarse, but he hoped no one noticed.
He could feel it. He could feel something behind his ribs. Something dark and pressing, pushing against his chest like it wanted out.
Rohit glanced at him. "You sure you're okay?"
Veer nodded quickly, focusing every ounce of willpower on suppressing the rising panic in his chest. He didn't want anyone to notice. He didn't want anyone to ask about it. Not now. Not ever.
Because if they did, they'd find out the truth.
And Veer was the last person who needed anyone poking around in his real problems.
Cherry, however, wasn't one to miss things. She squinted at him, sensing his discomfort.
"Veer, seriously, you're turning red. Do you need some water?"
"I'm fine," Veer gritted through his teeth, his voice sharp. He forced himself to stand and move, hoping the motion would alleviate the tightening in his chest.
But it only made it worse.
The pulse of energy wasn't stopping. It felt like his whole body was a live wire, a surge of something far beyond his understanding, coiling through his veins.
The world around him blurred again.
This time, Cherry caught him before he could fall.
"Veer?!" She exclaimed, her voice louder now. "What's going on? You're scaring me!"
But Veer forced himself to stay upright, his muscles tense, as if his very bones were vibrating.
"I'm fine," he repeated again, much quieter this time. He didn't know what was happening to him, but there was no way he was letting anyone else in on this mystery.
He gritted his teeth, refusing to show weakness.
And for the rest of the class, he fought to ignore the waves of nausea.
---
[5:15 p.m.]
The school bag hit the floor with a dull thud as Veer stepped into the house, barely managing to shut the door before he slumped against it. The flickering tube light above the entrance gave a welcoming bzzt as though mocking his state.
His shirt was half untucked, face pale, breath still not completely steady.
"Veer." A deep, thundering voice boomed from the living room.
Before Veer could even respond, a figure leapt over the back of the sofa like a jungle cat on caffeine.
Nanu.
Wearing a sleeveless vest with half a watermelon in one hand and a brick-sized Nokia in the other, muscles bulging like a retired demigod who refused to retire.
"WHY are your shoulders slouched?!" Nanu barked, pointing the watermelon at him like a grenade. "Straighten up or the ancestors will curse you with neck cramps."
Veer gave a weak wave. "Hi, Nanu."
"Don't 'Hi Nanu' me. You look like someone just sucked the testosterone out of your spine."
He tossed the watermelon across the room—TOSSED it—and it landed perfectly in a fruit bowl without even a dent.
Veer trudged to the sink, splashing water on his face.
"You okay?" Nanu asked, suddenly serious. He leaned on the kitchen counter, biceps flexing like they were on a separate payroll.
Veer paused. His chest still throbbed faintly from the energy pulse, like a warning echoing in the distance.
"Just tired," he muttered. "Double biology."
Nanu squinted. "That class is for people who want to suffer. I told you to fake a fainting spell and skip it."
"You also told me to fake rabies to avoid exams last year."
"And did it work?" Nanu grinned with a mouth full of nuts.
"No. They made me write the test in isolation."
Nanu looked proud. "Exactly. Peace and focus."
Veer sighed and collapsed onto the sofa.
He looked at the ceiling fan rotating like it, too, had existential dread.
Nanu stomped into the hallway, shirt now gone, yelling, "Today's workout: boulder throws and rooftop sprints. You in?"
Veer didn't even lift his head. "Hard pass."
"You need to train the body if you want to train the mind," Nanu barked, returning with a punching mitt and a sack of rice.
"Why rice?"
"Because no one expects it. That's the first rule of combat. Attack with grain."
Veer groaned and rolled over.
"You know, normal people retire when they get old."
"I'm not normal," Nanu flexed his back muscles so hard a crack echoed through the room, "I'm legendary."
[6:45 p.m.]
Later that evening, Veer sat at the desk, sketching nonsense in his notebook. The pulse had faded to a low hum inside him, like a storm cloud that refused to leave.
He hadn't told Nanu anything.
Not because he didn't want to.
But because—how do you explain to someone that you suddenly felt like your body wanted to erupt into pure light and static?
That you felt something ancient… off… deep in your chest?
That your blood felt wrong?
Nanu wouldn't panic—but he'd act. He'd probably storm the school with a steel chair and demand the principal hand over his "chakra-snatching equipment."
So Veer kept quiet.
[8:30 p.m.]
Dinner was chicken curry that had enough spice to legally qualify as a biological weapon.
Nanu ate like he was feeding a void. Veer, meanwhile, kept poking at the food, lost in thought.
"Stop thinking like a poet," Nanu said, without looking up. "Eat like a soldier. Or the curry will think you're weak and burn you harder."
Veer chuckled a little, then paused as a flicker of energy surged through his arm again.
Small. Barely noticeable. Like a warning signal.
He flinched.
Nanu noticed, eyes narrowing. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Veer lied with the smoothness of a veteran.
"You flinched like someone shot lightning up your spine."
"Curry's too spicy."
Nanu stared a moment longer… then nodded, buying it for now.
Or maybe not. You could never tell with him.
Veer stood, excused himself, and went to his room.
---
[10:15 p.m.]
Lying in bed, eyes on the ceiling, Veer felt the pulse again. Once. Just once.
Like something was waking up inside him.
Something that wasn't supposed to be there.
And though the chaos of the day buzzed around him… for the first time in a long while, Veer felt afraid.
Not of death.
But of being something else entirely.
---
...