[POV: Divya]
The Design Library's materials archive was a sensory nightmare. Rows and rows of industrial samples: swatches of rubber, chips of laminate, tiles, metal sheets. The lighting was a harsh, clinical white, buzzing like an angry insect. I was looking for grey paint finishes, my fingers flipping through sample cards, but all I could see was the blurry screenshot Rajesh had sent. The grey sleeve. The emblem.
My breath started feeling thin. Like the air was being stretched too tight.
It's just a library, I told myself. You've been here a hundred times.
But the last time I was here, Amit was alive. He'd met me here to help me find a specific kind of silk velvet. He'd pretended to be my "materials consultant," putting on a ridiculous faux-British accent, making the stern librarian crack a smile.
"Ah yes, m'lady, the crimson pile! Note its luxurious hand. Perfect for a tragic heroine's dressing gown!"
I could almost hear his voice, bouncing off the silent rows. A ghost in the archive.
The buzzing light got louder. The samples in front of me blurred into a grey smear. My heart decided it wanted to be a hummingbird, a frantic thrum-thrum-thrum against my ribs. My palms were slick.
Not here. Not now.
I stumbled away from the sample wall, my shoulder clipping a display of concrete finishes. The sound was too loud in the silence. An old man at a study carrel looked up, annoyed.
I needed out. I needed a closet. A dark, small space.
But there was no closet. There was only the bathroom.
I pushed through the heavy door into the girls' bathroom. It was empty, thank god. Tiled in beige, smelling of lemon disinfectant and despair. I locked myself in the farthest stall, leaning my forehead against the cool metal of the door.
Breathe, Divya. Just breathe.
But my lungs weren't listening. They were shallow, panicked sips of air. The world started to telescope, the edges of my vision darkening. The beige tiles swam.
This was how it always started. The spiral. The trapdoor opening beneath my feet.
Name five things you can see.
Amit's voice, calm and steady in my memory. My lifeline.
"I can't," I whispered to the empty stall.
You can. Just the first five. Don't think.
I forced my eyes open. "The… the silver latch on the door." My voice was a shaky mess.
"Good. What else?"
"A… a scratch on the blue tile. Graffiti. It says 'Rohan + Priya 4eva.'" Stupid. So stupid.
"Keep going."
"My own hands. They're shaking." I clasped them together. "The floor. It's… beige with grey flecks."
"One more."
I looked down. "My shoes. White sneakers. They're dirty."
Four things you can feel.
"The cool metal on my forehead. The… the edge of this stupid bracelet." I ran my thumb over the charms, the grooves biting into my skin. "My heartbeat. In my throat. It's too fast. The fabric of my jeans. It's rough."
Three things you can hear.
"The buzz of the light. My own stupid breathing. It's too loud. A… a toilet flushing. Someone in another stall." A normal sound. A human sound.
Two things you can smell.
"Disinfectant. It's cheap. It smells like hospitals." I took a deeper, shuddering breath. "My perfume. Jasmine. Amit said it smelled like midnight."
One thing you can taste.
"Salt." I realized I was crying. Silent tears just leaking out. "From my tears. I taste salt."
The 5-4-3-2-1. His emergency protocol. It was working. The tunnel vision receded. The hummingbird in my chest slowed to a panicked pigeon.
But he wasn't here. He'd never be here again to talk me through it. I had to do the next part alone.
Okay. You're here. You're with me. You're safe.
I wasn't safe. The people who killed him knew who I was. They'd followed me. They were probably watching the library right now. Rajesh's warning echoed: Don't look like you.
I looked down at the bracelet. Heart. Sun. Star.
"This is my grounding wire."
It wasn't a grounding wire. It was a shackle. A beautiful, silver shackle to a ghost.
A fresh wave of guilt-fueled anger hit me. Why did he leave me with this? With the panic and the silence and the mission? Why did he get to be the brave one who confronted the dragon, and I got to be the one having a meltdown in a public bathroom?
I yanked at the bracelet, the metal cutting into my skin. I wanted to rip it off, throw it into the toilet, flush his memory away.
But I couldn't.
My fingers stopped. I just held it, the charms digging into my palm.
He wasn't just a ghost. He was a partner. Even now. He'd left the clues. The sketchbook. The USB drive. The photo. He'd laid the breadcrumbs. And now it was my job—mine and Rajesh's—to follow them.
The panic receded, burned away by a new, clearer emotion: resolve. It was cold. It was hard. It was nothing like the fiery passion I was used to. This was a decision made in the aftermath of an explosion.
I wasn't safe. Okay. Then I would be dangerous instead.
I unlocked the stall door. I walked to the row of sinks. The girl who looked back at me in the mirror was a stranger. Pale, with red-rimmed eyes, hair a mess from where I'd been clutching it. She looked young. Scared. Breakable.
Don't look like you.
I turned on the tap, splashed cold water on my face. I pulled my hair back into a severe, tight ponytail, erasing the softness. I wiped the smudged eyeliner from under my eyes, leaving my face bare and stark. I took off the oversized cardigan that felt like a security blanket, tying it around my waist. Underneath, just a plain black tank top.
I looked older. Harder. Less like Divya the design student, more like… someone else. Someone who could walk into a shell company's office and not seem out of place.
I held up my wrist with the bracelet. In the harsh light, it looked less like jewelry and more like a piece of equipment. A mission token.
"Okay," I said to my reflection, my voice steady now. "New five things."
Five things I know:
1. Vikram is stealing.
2. Amit found out.
3. The Sunlight Foundation is the funnel.
4. V_Spectra is involved. Security. Transport. Grey.
5. They're watching us.
Four things I have:
1. Rajesh's fucked-up skills.
2. Amit's evidence.
3. This bracelet.
4. Nothing left to lose.
Three things I will do:
1. Go to Connaught Place.
2. Find V_Spectra.
3. See what they're guarding.
Two things I feel:
1. Fear. (A cold stone in my gut.)
2. Purpose. (A sharper, colder stone right next to it.)
One thing I am:
Ready.
I left the bathroom. The library felt different. The buzzing light was just a light. The samples were just data. I was a scanner, moving through the world, collecting information.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. A text from Rajesh.
Rajesh: Studio over? Status check.
I didn't tell him about the bathroom. I didn't tell him about the panic. He didn't need to know the asset was faulty. He just needed the asset to perform.
Me: On my way to CP now. ETA 30 min.
Rajesh: Remember. Hoodie. Hair. 15 minutes. Location shared.
Me: I remember. Don't call unless it's an emergency. I'll be fine.
I paused, then added:
Me: And Rajesh? If this goes sideways… tell my aunt I love her.
The three dots appeared. They lingered for a long time.
Rajesh: It won't go sideways. Because you're not going in alone. I'll be across the street. Watching. If you're not out in 14 minutes, I'm not calling you. I'm coming in.
A strange feeling uncurled in my chest. It wasn't the warm, safe feeling Amit used to give me. This was different. Grittier. It was the feeling of having backup who wasn't there to comfort you, but to extract you. A tactical alliance.
Me: Try not to look like you're auditing the building.
Rajesh: Try not to look like you're about to rob it.
I almost smiled. Almost.
I walked out of the library, into the late afternoon sun. I pulled my hood up, even though it was warm. I started walking toward the metro station, my movements purposeful, my gaze straight ahead.
The panic attack had left a hollow, clean space inside me. And in that space, a new version of me was building. One that could count her breaths, count the threats, and walk straight toward them.
The bracelet felt lighter on my wrist. Not a shackle.
A compass. Pointing straight toward the heart of the darkness.