Arvind’s Last Message Wasn’t for Help
Vishal didn't sleep that night.
He stared at the photo message — him and Shilpa outside the library. Shot from close range. Crisp.
Someone was following them, and they wanted him to know it.
But it wasn't fear he felt.
It was something worse.
Recognition.
He sat alone in the office, lights off, rain hitting the windows in soft taps. The landlord had finally stopped yelling about rent and left a steel tiffin box near the door. Inside: lemon rice and a note from the landlady.
"Eat. You look like a broomstick in a murder suit."
He smiled faintly.
Then he opened Arvind's journal again — the one they found at Camp Echo.
Pages and pages of calculations. Strange codes. Scribbled dreams.
One entry suddenly jumped out at him:
"The tests don't end when you leave. They just change shape."
And below it — coordinates.
New ones.
Vishal frowned.
He entered them on his laptop.
They pointed to… an abandoned cinema theatre, on the outskirts of Chennai. Shut down for 13 years. No electricity. No ownership trail.
Too specific to be random.
He sent the address to Rajesh.
"No questions. I need backup in Chennai. Tomorrow."
Rajesh replied within seconds.
"Shut up. I was bored anyway."
The theatre was a ruin.
"Welcome to a place where dreams died twice," Vishal muttered.
They entered through the back. The hall smelled of rust, wet cement, and something faintly chemical.
Inside the projection room, they found it.
A safe box bolted to the wall. New. Untouched by time.
And on it — a familiar sticker.
A paper doll. Crossed out.
Rajesh cracked the lock.
Inside: a flash drive and a photo.
The photo showed young Arvind, maybe twenty, standing beside the man in the brown suit — the same observer from Camp Echo.
But this time, Arvind was smiling.
Voluntarily.
Almost… proud.
Vishal plugged in the flash drive.
One file.
An audio note.
He played it.
Arvind's voice.
Tired. Calm. Resigned.
"If you're hearing this, it means you broke the pattern. Or maybe you became it. I don't know anymore."
"They wanted me to forget you, Vishal. That was the real test. Not if I could survive. But if I'd let go of the only person who mattered before it all began."
A pause.
A long, shaky breath.
"If I ever disappear, don't look for me. Don't try to fix it. Because if you do… they'll come for you next."
Click.
Silence.
Vishal didn't speak for a long time.
Then, softly, almost to himself:
"Too late, Anna."