Reflections Don’t Lie

Vansh left all words behind as he exited the cabin. Looking up, he stood there, frozen—before him was a familiar figure. He slowly closed the door, his eyes locking onto the other's.

The popular guy.

 The air between them was silent, only the wind brushing past, ruffling their hair. Neither spoke, just staring at each other, as if waiting for the other to make the first move.

Vansh noticed the popular guy gripping his own stone tightly. He finally broke the silence. "I think you weren't supposed to be here."

The guy raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I'm free to be wherever I want. I have my own rights."

He lifted the stone into the air, striking a dramatic posture. "I don't care what you're saying. Behold, the masterpiece I have found—this rock, the Rock of Will!"

Vansh slowly stepped closer and pinched the guy's hand, making him flinch.

"Srujan, I told you so many times, don't meet me and talk to me in the school veranda. It would be a real mess."

Srujan let out an exaggerated shriek, pulling his hand away. "Ah! Help, someone!" He cried but saw Vansh wasn't amused.

"This is your punishment for breaking the rule," Vansh said, dead serious.

Srujan, always brushing off Vansh's warnings, didn't take it seriously. He was a close friend, someone who cared about Vansh, yet he never listened. 

Vansh sighed. "If anyone finds out, your popularity will be shattered into pieces. Just get back to your friends, don't waste time with someone like me, and—"

"See, Vansh," Srujan interrupted, stepping forward. "I don't care about your need to be alone or this whole distancing act. I am your friend."

Vansh tensed. "Not anymore."

Srujan grabbed Vansh's collar, his grip firm but not aggressive. Vansh tensed under his hold, his pulse quickening—not out of fear, but something else. A strange mix of frustration and something deeper, something unspoken. His fingers twitched at his sides, unsure whether to push him away or let the moment linger. "Don't mess this friendship up so easily," he said, voice quieter this time. "They don't care about you. I do, okay?"

Some students saw the scene and misunderstood. To them, it looked like the guy was scolding Vansh. The murmurs spread fast, and suddenly, his popularity only seemed to rise more.

Vansh sighed and let his hands fall away from his collar. "I'll visit."

Srujan seemed happy with that, nodding before leaving. As he walked away, distracted by something else, Vansh felt it again.

That stare.

A familiar, strange feeling creeping up from the corridor corner. But he knew better than to dwell on it. Ignoring it, he headed for the bus.

The Bus stop:

The bus stopped at Vansh's place. As he stepped off, he noticed her. The new girl.

She sat inside the bus, watching him. She seemed to be waiting for someone to pick him up. But no one came. He stood alone. She was waiting his parents to come and pick him up, but no one came.

She continued watching as the bus moved, even as he disappeared from sight.

After a few stops, the popular guy got off. Everyone called out goodbyes to him, and he responded with a nod, though not much enthusiasm. Another boy got off with him. Some girls waved and giggled as they said their farewells. He simply gestured at them. When the boys said goodbye, he responded properly and walked away with the other guy to their parents.

As Srujan and the other guy walked away, a truck passed by, kicking up a light dust cloud in its wake. The low rumble of the engine echoed for a few moments before fading into the distance.

By the time the dust settled, Vansh was already in front of his house.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Silence greeted him, familiar yet heavy.

He slipped off his shoes and walked straight to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, he filled it with water and took slow sips, letting the coolness settle his thoughts. His fingers lingered on the rim before setting it down with a soft clink.

Pushing open his bedroom door, he let his bag slip from his shoulder, landing beside the chair with a dull thud. He didn't throw himself onto the bed like usual. Instead, he lingered near the edge, rolling his shoulders slightly, still holding onto the weight of the day.

Undoing his uniform buttons, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside before heading to the bathroom. The splash of cold water against his face helped, but it didn't shake off the strange feeling settling inside him.

As he stepped back into his room, the door creaked.

His movements stilled.

A shadow stretched across the floor.

He turned—at the doorway stood a woman.

She didn't speak. Didn't move.

Her gaze was unreadable—serious, lingering for a moment too long before she turned and walked away without a word.

Vansh let out a slow breath, running a hand through his damp hair. He pulled on a fresh shirt and finally sat on the bed.

His fingers idly traced the stitching on his pillow as his thoughts drifted back to the events of the day—Srujan, the new girl , the notes in class.

Then, his eyes landed on his school bag.

Something about it felt… off.

His fingers hesitated before reaching for it.

The next day, Vansh was late for class, the last to enter. As he made his way to his desk, he reached into his bag, brushing against something white with black marks.

His desk looked… normal. That amused him. He pushed the object back into his bag, setting it aside for later.

Vansh caught a glimpse of his desk—where there had once been crude, black markings filled with harsh words. But today, they were gone, as if they had never existed.

His seat next to him was empty. No bag, no books. Nothing from the girl who had been there yesterday.

He quietly pulled out his comic, flipping through the pages. Then, the classroom chatter suddenly died down.

The teacher had entered. And with her—the girl.

Everyone turned to look at her, but she wore an odd smile, something different from yesterday. The teacher clapped her hands. "Alright, class, we have a new student."

Vansh frowned. New? Didn't she arrive yesterday?

The girl smiled brightly. "Hello, everyone! My name is Aanya. I'm new to this city. I recently moved here. I hope we can all be good friends. Nice to meet you all!"

Her voice—clear now. But Vansh had heard it before. Not just yesterday. Somewhere else. Like a distant memory trying to push itself into his thoughts.

Something about this felt… familiar.

Everyone seemed excited. The guys especially. The teacher gestured for her to take a seat. She glanced around the room. Vansh noticed her eyes land on the seat beside the popular guy.

It made sense for her to sit there.

But she didn't.

She walked past it and sat beside Vansh instead.

A minor change, but a change nonetheless.

She turned to look at him. Smiled. Just enough.

Vansh didn't know what to make of it. Confused and amused at the same time, he turned back to his comic, unable to shake the strange, repeating feeling creeping over him.

As Vansh flipped through his comic, something slipped out—a neatly folded note. He frowned and picked it up.

"You're trapped in a loop. Good luck, Vansh. - A Friend"

His stomach dropped. He looked around, but no one seemed to be paying attention. Aanya sat beside him, calmly flipping through her book like nothing was off.

Vansh hesitated, then flipped the note over.

Just then, the teacher called his name. Vansh sighed, closing his comic, and stood up. But as he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in the window reflection—and for a split second, he swore his reflection moved differently than him.

He blinked, but before he could process it, another chit fell from his desk.

"Don't read comics during class."

His heart skipped a beat. Isn't this…?

Before he could react, the teacher called his name again. He quickly went to the board. As he approached, the teacher teased, "Vansh, at least look at me when I'm talking to you."

Vansh didn't care about her words—until she said, 'Look back.' He didn't know why, but he obeyed. And when he did, his eyes instinctively found Aanya, as if drawn to her by something beyond his control.

She was smiling—soft, effortless, the kind of smile that made her cheeks slightly puff up, dimpling at the sides. She rested her chin on her hand, watching Vansh.

Her large eyes gleamed with an innocent mischief, framed by wisps of hair that fell slightly out of place. There was a warmth to it, a playful gentleness, like a child caught in a secret joke only she understood. It was the kind of expression that felt impossibly light, yet lingered in his mind longer than it should. It was too late to turn back now.

His heart raced.