Chapter 14 – Shattered Foundations

The darkness clung to Aryan's consciousness like a heavy fog, refusing to let go even as his mind clawed its way toward wakefulness. A dull hum filled the silence—low, distant, like the world itself was whispering a secret he wasn't meant to understand. The sensation wasn't unfamiliar. It was the same lingering disorientation he felt after every dream, but this time, it was different.

This time, he wasn't just waking up. He was being pulled back from something.

His breath came in slow, uneven bursts as he stared at the ceiling, waiting for reality to set in. His body felt like it had been drained of all warmth, leaving a cold hollowness in his chest. The dream still gripped his mind, refusing to fade like the others had.

The old man.

Aryan had seen him before, in one of his previous dreams, but this time, it had been different. The wind had screamed through the emptiness, wilder than ever, yet the old man had stood firm, unshaken. His presence had felt more real than before, more… watching. And in the final moments before Aryan had woken up, the wind had whispered something—words almost understandable but just out of reach.

A sharp exhale left his lips as he shut his eyes. It was getting worse. The visions were becoming clearer, the weight of them pressing heavier against his mind. And worse than that—he could still feel it.

The wind.

Even lying still in his bed, he could sense the air moving unnaturally, shifting with something more than just the morning breeze. It responded to him, waiting, anticipating. And he hated it.

With a frustrated sigh, Aryan pushed himself up, his muscles stiff from the restless night. The moment he moved, his senses flared. The rustling of the bedsheets, the soft hum of the ceiling fan, the distant sound of water running in the bathroom—everything felt amplified, too sharp, too loud. His awareness was spiraling beyond his control, stretching to things he had no business noticing.

He took a slow breath.

Not today.

He couldn't afford to let this consume him. Not when everything was already hanging by a thread.

With effort, he forced himself to move, swinging his legs over the bed and pressing his feet against the cold floor. He blinked against the faint light spilling through the curtains, trying to shake off the lingering weight of the dream.

Today was just another day.

Just another day of pretending.

The walk to school was quieter than usual. The world around him felt distant, like he was moving through something unreal. The wind played at the edges of his awareness, constantly shifting, constantly whispering. He kept his hands in his pockets, shoulders tense, every step measured.

The closer he got to the school, the heavier the air became. Not literally, but in a way that made his stomach tighten. He didn't need to hear the whispers to know they hadn't died down.

The fight. His sudden intelligence. His silence.

They were still watching. Still talking.

As he stepped onto the school grounds, his pulse quickened. He could feel the stares, the murmurs just out of reach. He knew it wasn't real—knew his mind was exaggerating it, twisting reality into something worse than it was. But logic didn't matter when the feeling was already sinking in.

He forced himself forward, his footsteps steady, unwavering. He wouldn't let them see anything.

But then, as he passed a group of students near the entrance, a voice cut through the low chatter.

"He's acting normal now, but you saw what happened."

Aryan's jaw clenched. He didn't stop walking. Didn't acknowledge them.

Another voice. Lower, but no less sharp. "Maybe he really did cheat."

The words hit him harder than they should have.

He told himself it didn't matter. They didn't matter.

But then—

"Aadhya's still hanging around him. Guess she doesn't care."

His breath hitched.

It was an offhand comment, one he might have ignored if it hadn't struck something raw. The tension that had already been simmering inside him flared, twisting into something darker. He didn't slow his steps, didn't let them see any reaction. But deep inside, something cracked.

The classroom was suffocating.

Aryan sat at his desk, trying to focus, trying to keep his breathing steady. But every sound grated against his nerves. Every shift, every cough, every scribble of a pen—it all felt too much. His awareness was working against him, refusing to let him settle.

His fingers curled around the edge of the desk as he stared at the notes in front of him, trying to read, trying to act normal. But the words blurred together, meaningless.

He felt Aadhya's gaze before he saw it.

He didn't look up at first. He knew what he'd see—concern. Confusion. The same look she'd given him yesterday when he'd walked away.

He hated that look.

Finally, he let out a slow breath and lifted his eyes.

Aadhya was watching him, her brow slightly furrowed. She wasn't saying anything, but she didn't need to. The question was in her eyes.

Are you okay?

Aryan's fingers tightened around his pen. He didn't want to answer. Didn't want to acknowledge the question at all. So he did what he did best—he shut down.

He dropped his gaze back to his notebook and ignored her.

A moment passed. Then another.

And then, just as he thought she'd let it go—

"You didn't even hear me, did you?"

Her voice was soft, but it still managed to cut through the noise in his head.

Aryan exhaled sharply through his nose, shifting in his seat. "I'm trying to focus."

"That's not what I asked."

He clenched his jaw. "Just drop it, Aadhya."

She didn't respond right away, and for a second, he thought she actually would let it go. But then—

"Aryan."

His grip on the pen tightened.

He could hear the patience in her voice, the careful edge of it. She wasn't angry. Not yet. But she was trying.

Trying to understand.

Trying to reach him.

And he didn't want that.

Didn't deserve that.

He shut his notebook with a quiet snap and finally turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. "I said drop it."

Aadhya's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something else. But this time, she didn't push.

Instead, she just studied him, her gaze searching for something he wasn't willing to give.

And then, finally, she sighed.

"Fine."

She turned away, going back to her own work, and just like that, the conversation ended.

But the silence it left behind was louder than anything.

And that was how it started.

A crack in the foundation.

A tension neither of them spoke about, but both of them felt.

And Aryan knew—this was only the beginning.

Because sooner or later, something was going to break.

And when it did…

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop it.

The day dragged on, stretching time into something unbearable.

Aryan moved through the halls like a ghost, his mind heavy with the weight of thoughts he couldn't shake. His awareness remained heightened, a curse more than a gift. Every sound, every whisper, every glance burned into his senses.

The air inside the school felt thick, charged with something unspoken. He could feel it pressing against his skin, wrapping around him like invisible hands.

He didn't know if it was real.

Or if it was just him.

Lunch came, and he barely noticed. He wasn't hungry. The cafeteria was loud, chaotic, suffocating. He didn't sit with anyone. He didn't want to.

But Aadhya found him anyway.

"Aryan."

He barely looked up.

She was standing next to his table, her tray in one hand, her expression unreadable. There was no anger in her voice, but there was something else. Something he couldn't place.

He exhaled slowly. "What?"

Her brows pulled together, just slightly. "Can we talk?"

He should have expected that. He should have seen it coming.

Still, he wasn't ready.

"Not now," he muttered.

Aadhya didn't move. "Then when?"

Aryan clenched his jaw.

She wasn't going to let this go.

Not this time.

He finally looked up, meeting her gaze. He could see it now—the frustration, the concern, the quiet patience that was beginning to wear thin.

She was waiting for him to say something.

But he had nothing to give.

He pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'll see you later."

And then he walked away.

Leaving her standing there.

And hating himself for it.

The day didn't get better.

If anything, it got worse.

By the time the last period rolled around, Aryan's head was pounding. His thoughts wouldn't stop racing. His senses wouldn't stop burning. He was tired—exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.

He just needed the day to end.

Just needed to get out.

The final bell rang, but as Aryan gathered his things, he felt it—the shift in the air.

The moment he stepped into the hallway, he saw them.

A group of students lingering near the lockers.

Watching him.

Their voices were low, but Aryan didn't need to hear the words to know what they were saying.

He ignored them.

Or at least, he tried.

Until—

"Guess he's too smart for us now."

The words weren't particularly harsh.

But the way they were said—the mockery, the amusement—it set something off inside him.

He stopped walking.

A mistake.

They noticed.

One of them—Kabir Nair—smirked. "Didn't mean to offend you, genius."

Aryan turned his head just enough to meet Kabir's gaze.

He didn't say anything.

Didn't have to.

Something in his expression must have been enough, because Kabir's smirk faltered, just slightly.

But he recovered quickly. "You gonna stand there all day, or—"

The air shifted.

A sudden gust.

Barely noticeable.

But Aryan felt it.

And so did they.

Kabir frowned, glancing around. "The hell was that?"

Aryan forced his breath to steady.

Control.

Not here.

Not now.

He turned away without a word, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking past them.

Let it go.

Let it go.

The wind settled.

But his hands were shaking.

He needed to leave.

Now.

The moment Aryan stepped outside the school gates, he didn't stop. He didn't look back.

He walked.

Fast.

Without direction.

Without thought.

He didn't know where he was going.

He just knew he had to get away.

The streets blurred around him. The world felt too loud, too bright, too real.

His mind was spinning.

His chest was tight.

His powers—

They weren't listening.

The wind was restless. It moved with him, around him, through him.

Something was wrong.

His emotions were slipping.

And his powers—

They were slipping, too.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe.

But the air around him whispered.

Calling to him.

Mocking him.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Too much.

It was too much.

And then—

A voice.

"Aryan?"

He froze.

For a moment, the world stopped.

And when he turned, his breath caught.

Aadhya.

She was standing there.

Watching him.

And she looked afraid.

Not of him.

For him.

Aryan swallowed hard, forcing his expression to stay blank. "What are you doing here?"

Aadhya took a slow step forward. "I could ask you the same thing."

He didn't answer.

Didn't know how to.

She studied him for a long moment. "You walked out of school like you were running from something."

He exhaled through his nose. "I wasn't."

Aadhya tilted her head, unconvinced. "Then why do you look like you're about to explode?"

Aryan's jaw tightened. "I'm fine."

"Liar."

His breath hitched.

The word was soft.

But it hit harder than anything.

Aadhya's gaze didn't waver. "Talk to me, Aryan."

His fingers curled into fists.

He wanted to.

He didn't want to.

He couldn't.

"I can't," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aadhya's expression softened. "Why?"

Aryan's throat tightened.

Because I don't know what's happening to me.

Because I don't trust myself.

Because if I say it out loud, it becomes real.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "Just… don't, Aadhya."

A flicker of something crossed her face. Hurt, maybe.

But she didn't push.

Not yet.

Instead, she just exhaled, stepping back. "Fine."

A pause.

Then—

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She turned.

And walked away.

Leaving Aryan standing there.

Alone.

Again.

But this time—

He wasn't sure if it was by choice.

END OF CHAPTER 14