"Who benefits the most from keeping you alive?"
The question poisoned everything.
Sarthak walked home that night in silence.
Not because he lacked answers.
Because now—
There were too many.
The sender could have exposed him anytime.
Could have ruined him.
Could have attacked him directly.
But they did not.
Instead—
They kept pushing him forward.
Feeding clues.
Controlling the pace.
Like they wanted him to uncover something himself.
Which meant—
This was bigger than revenge.
Much bigger.
His room was dark when he entered.
The city lights outside flickered faintly through the curtains.
Sarthak sat down slowly.
Phone in hand.
Mind racing.
Mahi hid the truth.
Vansh saw someone.
Ananya knew too much.
Riya was targeted.
But none of them—
Felt like the mastermind.
No.
The sender was different.
Patient.
Calculated.
Someone who understood him deeply.
Maybe—
Too deeply.
A vibration.
Message.
Unknown Number.
Of course.
"You are finally thinking correctly."
Sarthak's eyes hardened.
"…Who are you?" he typed.
This time—
The reply came instantly.
"Someone who lost everything too."
Silence.
"…Because of her?"*
Typing…
Stopped.
Then—
"Because of YOU."
His breath paused.
What?
"Tomorrow."
"Archive room."
"Come alone."
And then—
One final message.
"It is time you saw the part they hid from you."
NEXT DAY
Rain again.
Not heavy.
But enough to make the campus feel colder.
Almost nostalgic.
Sarthak hated that.
The archive room was located beneath the old administration building.
A place students rarely visited.
Dust.
Old records.
Forgotten things.
Fitting.
The door creaked open slowly.
Darkness greeted him first.
Then—
The smell of old paper.
"…I am here," Sarthak said calmly.
Silence.
No distorted voice.
No footsteps.
Nothing.
Then—
A projector flickered on.
Sarthak's eyes narrowed instantly.
Static.
A video file.
Date:
Three Years Ago.
His heartbeat slowed.
No.
The video began.
Rain.
That same rooftop.
The same night.
But this time—
From another angle.
Security footage.
Sarthak froze.
Because for the first time—
He was seeing the full scene.
There she was.
Standing near the edge.
Crying.
And him—
Running toward her.
Just like he remembered.
But then—
Something changed.
Someone entered the frame.
Another figure.
Hidden under a hood.
Sarthak's breath stopped.
"…Who…"
The figure approached the girl first.
They argued.
Aggressively.
Even without audio—
The tension was obvious.
Then—
The girl tried to pull away.
The hooded figure grabbed her wrist.
Everything inside Sarthak turned cold.
Because this—
Was real.
Not imagination.
Not manipulation.
Proof.
Then—
The figure suddenly shoved her.
Not hard.
But enough.
One wrong step.
One slip.
And she fell backward.
Sarthak reached her—
Too late.
The footage froze there.
Silence.
The room suddenly felt impossible to breathe in.
"…She…"
His voice cracked slightly.
"…She really was pushed."
The projector flickered again.
The footage zoomed in slowly.
Toward the hooded figure.
Sarthak stepped closer unconsciously.
The image was blurry.
Rain-distorted.
But then—
One detail became visible.
A bracelet.
Black thread.
Silver charm.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Sarthak's eyes widened.
No.
No way.
Because he had seen that bracelet before.
Recently.
Very recently.
A voice behind him.
Quiet.
"…Now you understand."
Sarthak turned instantly.
And froze.
Standing near the doorway—
Ananya Singh.
Rainwater dripping from her sleeves.
Expression unreadable.
"…You," Sarthak whispered.
Ananya looked at the frozen footage.
Then at him.
"I told you," she said softly.
"…You were looking in the wrong direction."
Silence.
"…Whose bracelet is that?" Sarthak asked.
Ananya held his gaze.
For once—
No sarcasm.
No challenge.
Only seriousness.
"…You already know."
Heartbeat.
Heavy.
Loud.
Because yes—
He did know.
Or at least—
He thought he did.
"…No," he whispered.
Because if he was right—
Then everything changed again.
Everything.
And then—
The projector shut off.
Darkness swallowed the room instantly.
At the same moment—
Sarthak's phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
"Careful."
A pause.
"The closer you get…"
Another vibration.
"…the more it will hurt."
Sarthak slowly lowered the phone.
But this time—
His hands were not trembling.
Because now—
He finally had something real.
A face hidden in shadows.
A bracelet.
A truth buried for years.
And someone—
Who desperately wanted it hidden.
His eyes darkened.
"…I am done being controlled."
Because from this moment onward—
Sarthak Roy was no longer the victim of the story.
He was becoming its most dangerous player.
To be continued…