Chapter 4: Shadows in the Shimmer

Aadi stood in the courtyard, the morning sun glaring off the red-brick walls, the hum in his head buzzing like a swarm of wasps.

The clock tower read 7:45 a.m., the same Tuesday rhythm pulsing around him—students laughing, shuffling, oblivious. His hands trembled, sweat beading despite the cool air, his body aching—ribs sore, skull throbbing, a faint taste of blood lingering from… what? Dreams? Memories? He'd felt flames sear him, fists crush him, seen blood spill—Ria's, Neha's, his own—but here he was, back in the same day, the same faces staring. Was it real? A nightmare folding into itself? He clenched his fists, the hum whispering Sindhu… Sagar…, sharp and insistent, a thread he couldn't ignore.

This time, he wouldn't just survive it. He'd rip it open—and he couldn't do it alone.

Nikhil jogged over, football in hand, grinning the same grin. "Oi, Aadi! You coming today?"

Aadi stared, the hum droning like thunder.

"Tuesday?" he asked, voice rough, testing the air.

"Yeah, man," Nikhil said, squinting. "You look like crap—what's up?"

"Everything," Aadi muttered, brushing past, eyes scanning the crowd—every glance, every shadow. Something was off, and he'd find it.

By midmorning, the whispers slithered in, eyes flicking to his jacket. Phones flashed the photo—a blurry figure near the girls' washroom, 4:13 p.m. His gut twisted, but he squared his shoulders, jaw tight. He'd faced this before—three times, or so it seemed. Neha and Manisha drifted over near the canteen, their voices piercing his haze. He needed them, but convincing them would be a battle.

"You okay?" Neha asked, glasses slipping, her tone soft but laced with concern.

Aadi locked eyes with her, the hum buzzing like static. "No. This day—it's a trap. I've lived it before, or dreamed it. I need to know why it won't stop, and I need you two with me."

Manisha tilted her head, braid swinging, a grin spreading. "What, you're caught in a ghost loop now? Ria's cursed diary stuck on replay?" She wiggled her fingers like a conjurer, then laughed, loud and sharp. "Come on, Aadi, you sound like you've lost it."

"I'm serious," Aadi said, voice hardening, stepping closer. "I've seen fire, blood—people dying, me dying. Then it resets. You're both in it every time—I can't do this alone."

Neha's hands twisted her sweater, her eyes widening, but she shook her head. "Dying? Aadi, that's… crazy. Like a nightmare on repeat? It's Tuesday—everything's normal.

You're freaking me out, but this can't be real."

"It feels real," he countered, voice low and urgent, leaning in. "That photo—who took it? Who's spreading it? I've been to the shed, the washroom—things go wrong there, bad wrong. I wake up, and it's Tuesday again. I'm not making this up—I need you to believe me."

Manisha snorted, crossing her arms, her smirk fading to a skeptical squint. "Okay, slow down, time-travel boy. You're saying you're dying and popping back like some video game glitch? What's next, aliens beaming you up? You've got a wild imagination, but I'm not buying it."

Aadi's fists clenched, the hum spiking, frustration boiling over. "It's not imagination—I've felt it! Fire in the shed, fists in the washroom—blood everywhere. I've seen Ria's skull split, Neha's throat cut, my own ribs snap—then I'm back here, with you two, every damn time. Call it a dream, a curse, whatever—I need to break it, and I can't without you."

Neha flinched, stepping back, her voice trembling. "Stop—you're scaring me! That's too much, Aadi. People don't just… die and come back. It's Tuesday—look around! No blood, no fire. Maybe you're stressed, or sick—did you hit your head or something?"

"I'm not sick," he snapped, then softened, running a hand through his hair, the ache in his skull pulsing. "I know it sounds insane—I don't get it either. But it's happening. The hum—I hear it, Sindhu Sagar, every time I wake up. It's tied to this. Ria's in it—she keeps saying I'm hers, 'mine and mine alone.' I need to figure out what she knows, and I need you to watch her with me."

Manisha rolled her eyes, but her grin was gone, replaced by a frown. "Sindhu Sagar? What's that, some secret code? Look, Aadi, you're my friend, but this is nuts—dying, resetting, creepy whispers? I'd say you're pulling a prank, but you look like you're about to puke. Ria's a drama queen, sure, but time loops? That's sci-fi movie stuff."

"Then treat it like a movie," Aadi said, desperation creeping in, stepping between them, eyes darting from Neha's nervous fidgeting to Manisha's skeptical stare. "Humor me—just for today. Follow Ria, see what she does. If I'm wrong, I'll shut up, get help, whatever. But if I'm right, we're stuck in this together—I can't fight it solo. Please."

Neha bit her lip, glancing at Manisha, then back at Aadi, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't believe it—not really. It's too wild. But… you're freaked out, and I've never seen you like this. I'll help, okay? Just don't talk about dying anymore—it's creepy."

Manisha sighed, throwing her hands up. "Fine, fine—Detective Aadi wins. I still think you've been reading too many comics, but I'll play along. Ria's shady enough to make it fun. We'll tail her—but if this is a bust, you owe me a week of snacks."

Aadi exhaled, relief washing over him, the hum steadying. "Deal. Track her moves, stay out of sight. I'll hit Gupta next."

The intercom crackled, summoning him to the principal's office. He strode in, Gupta peering over his glasses, the photo on the desk. The grilling started—same accusations, same threats—but Aadi cut in, voice sharp. "Where'd this come from? Who gave it to you? I need a name—now."

Gupta blinked, adjusting his glasses, thrown off. "A student—anonymous. Slipped under my door last week. Why's it matter? It's you, isn't it?"

"No," Aadi said, leaning forward, palms pressing the desk. "Someone's framing me. Last week—before this day started over. Check your records, your trash—give me something."

Gupta scowled, flipping through a file, then dug into a drawer, pulling out a crumpled envelope. "This—just the photo, no note. Dropped off Thursday, I think. You're wasting my time, boy—get out."

Aadi stared at the envelope—Thursday, pre-Tuesday, a crack in the puzzle. The hum roared, a piece clicking. He left, dodging the shed and washroom, mind racing. Outside, Neha and Manisha waved him over near the gym, voices hushed.

"She's cagey," Manisha said, grinning faintly. "Slipped behind the science block—met some janitor guy. Super sketchy."

Neha nodded, twisting her sweater tighter. "He handed her something—small, folded, like a note or card. She stuffed it in her bag, then caught me staring—gave me this glare, like she'd claw my throat out."

A janitor. Aadi's gut clenched, the hum spiking. "Where's she now?"

"Courtyard," Manisha said, nodding toward the railing. "Pacing like a cat."

Aadi moved, threading through the crowd, spotting Ria near the railing, her posture tense, eyes darting. He approached, voice steady but edged. "Ria, we need to talk. I've lived this day—three times. I've died in it. What do you know about it?"

Ria turned, her eyes narrowing, a smirk tugging her lips. "Died? You're cracking up, Aadi. What's this nonsense now?"

"The photo," he said, stepping closer, the hum a shriek. "Who took it? Why does this day keep looping? I hear things—Sindhu Sagar. Tell me what it means."

Her smirk faltered, a flicker of something—fear?—crossing her face before she masked it. "Sindhu Sagar? Sounds like gibberish. You're paranoid—get a grip."

"Stop dodging," he pressed, voice rising, hands balling into fists. "You're in this every time—saying I'm yours, 'mine and mine alone.' What's the game? What's the janitor got on you?"

Ria's eyes flashed, her hand twitching toward her bag. "Janitor? You're fishing, Aadi. I don't know what you're babbling about—'mine and mine alone' is just me messing with you. Back off."

"You're lying," he said, stepping into her space, voice low and fierce. "I've felt it—fire, blood, my skull cracking. You're hiding something—what's in your bag? That note he gave you—what is it?"

She shoved him back, her voice sharp, trembling slightly. "You're delusional! There's no note, no loop—get out of my face before I make you sorry!" Her fingers brushed the bag's zipper, clutching it tighter, betraying her words.

Manisha stepped up, smirking. "Oh, touchy! What's in there, Ria—your secret stalker diary?"

Ria's gaze turned icy. "Keep pushing, and you'll both regret it," she spat, storming off, her pace quickening. Aadi watched, her reaction a crack in the wall—he'd hit something. A shadow lingered near the gym—a wiry janitor, wild-eyed, clutching a rusted wrench, staring at Aadi with a mix of rage and dread.

"You," the man growled, stepping forward, voice low and jagged. "Photo boy—troublemaker. I've seen you—too many times, always here." He raised the wrench, but Aadi sidestepped, heart pounding, the hum screaming.

"What do you know?" Aadi demanded, dodging another swing, the crowd gasping and scattering. "Why does this day keep coming back? What's Sindhu Sagar?"

"You're marked!" the janitor spat, lunging, wrench grazing Aadi's arm—pain flared, a shallow cut bleeding through his sleeve.

"Something's got its hooks in you—won't let go! I told her—told her to stop!" He swung again, wild and frantic, but Manisha barreled in, shoving him hard.

"Back off, creep!" she yelled, braid whipping as she stood firm. Neha grabbed Aadi's arm, pulling him back. The janitor snarled, staggering, then bolted into the crowd, his words echoing—marked… hooks in you… told her.

Aadi clutched his bleeding arm, panting, the hum pulsing Sindhu Sagar… the Sea of Indus…. A vision flashed—black waves crashing, a jagged, glowing rock sinking, voices murmuring in an ancient tongue, a shadow stirring beneath the water—then faded. Neha's grip tightened, her voice quaking. "He—he knew something! 'Told her'—told Ria? What's 'marked'?"

"I don't know," Aadi said, voice raw, wiping blood on his pants. "But Ria's tangled in it, and he's terrified. We need more—keep on her."

Manisha dusted her hands, smirking faintly. "Well, we've got a psycho janitor and Miss Obsessive rattled. Next play, boss?"

"Corner her again," Aadi said, eyes on Ria's retreating figure. "She's slipping—I'll break her open."

The bell rang, the day marching on, but he lingered, scanning the crowd. Ria vanished into the throng, the janitor lost in the shadows. No one died—not yet—but the hum wouldn't quiet, and the answers were clawing closer, cold and sharp.