Chapter 3: The Unsaid Things

Some silences are loud.

Like the one that dropped between Shweta and Siddharth every time they accidentally locked eyes.

Like the one that hung in shweta's mind each time she sees spiral stairs.

Shweta hadn’t walked down that kind of staircases in two years. She avoided it like it had teeth. But today, the corridor was blocked for maintenance, and she had no choice, but to take backside spiral stairs to go up the terrace, as the teacher assigned her some supplies to pick from there.

One step.

Another.

The polished wood creaked beneath her shoes. A rush of phantom memories hit her—music, her own laughter, frosting, screams.

She stopped halfway.

A child’s voice, echoing in her ears.

“sister! Wait—wait for me!”

Her breath caught.

No one was there.

But she could feel it.

That day. That exact second.

If only she had turned. If only—

“Still pretending it wasn’t your fault?”

She turned.

Siddharth. Leaning against the railing.

His face was unreadable, but the words cut deep.

“I’m not pretending,” she said evenly. “I don’t remember all of it.”

He scoffed. “Convenient.”

Her jaw tightened. “What do you remember?”

He looked away for a second—jaw clenched, something unreadable in his eyes.

“She reached for you,” he muttered. “She wanted you, not the cake, not the crowd. Just you.”

Shweta’s stomach twisted. “I know she did.”

“Then why didn’t you—” he stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “Forget it.”

A silence stretched between them.

She finally said, “I miss her too, Siddharth. She wasn't just your sister, but was important to us all as well.”

He stared at her like she had no right to say that. But he didn’t speak again.

He walked away.

Later – Library

Shweta sat curled in a corner, an untouched history book in her lap.

Opposite her, Arush was sketching lazily into the margins of his notebook. A butterfly. Then a clock. Then... a falling girl.

She blinked.

“Did you just draw—?”

“Don’t know,” he said, smiling crookedly. “Sometimes my hand moves faster than my brain.”

“Creepy.”

“Artistic,” he corrected.

“You don’t even know what you’re drawing?”

He shrugged. “Maybe my mind remembers things my eyes haven’t seen yet.”

She frowned, eyes flicking back to the falling girl on the page.

“Maybe that’s what I need,” she said. “A shortcut to remembering.”

“To remembering what?”

She hesitated. “What really happened to Ananya.”

Arush’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”

“I think my memory’s broken,” she whispered. “I don’t remember if she fell… or if someone pushed her. Or if I could’ve stopped it.”

He looked at her carefully, then asked, “Would it change anything?”

“Yes,” she said without pause. “Because I think I’ve been punishing myself for something I might not have done.”

Elsewhere – Sahil’s Room

Sahil and Sashwat were playing a video game when Sashwat let out a deep sigh.

“Hey! What’s with the long sigh?” Sahil asked, eyes glued to the screen, fingers moving fast.

Sashwat glanced at him seriously. “What’s going on between your sister and that transfer guy?”

Sahil’s fingers froze mid-game, letting his character take all the hits. “Why? Did something happen again?”

Confused, Sashwat raised an eyebrow. “Again? What do you mean?”

Sahil shrugged it off. “Huh? Nothing. Why are you asking?”

“It’s just... the whole classroom can feel the tension. The way he looks at her—it’s like he thinks she betrayed him. And also…”

He trailed off.

Sahil leaned in slightly. “Also what?”

“I saw her in the hallway earlier. She looked tense. When I asked her, she mentioned something about the past.”

Sashwat didn’t fully understand what she meant, but for some reason, he felt compelled to help her. His heart pulled him toward her.

He looked up at Sahil, genuinely hoping for answers.

Sahil didn’t hide the truth. “It was a misunderstanding. We used to be really close—tight-knit, all of us.”

“Until that night… her birthday turned into her worst nightmare. She hasn’t celebrated it since,” he said, his expression clouding with sorrow.

“It traumatized her so much, she can’t even remember the incident clearly. If only I could go back and change things.”

Sahil clenched his fists, feeling helpless.

Listening quietly, Sashwat muttered, “Maybe time travel is the solution.”

“Time travel?” Sahil stared at Sashwat like he’d lost his mind.

Sashwat nodded. “Not literal—not yet. But the brain does it. With memories. Triggers. Trauma. What if we could retrace the day—together?”

“Shweta barely talks about that day.”

“She doesn’t need to talk,” Sashwat said calmly. “She just needs to relive.”

“You’re being weird.”

Sashwat grinned. “You’ll get used to it.”

Sahil frowned. “What exactly are you planning?”

“Not planning,” Sashwat said. “But if her mind is blocking something out… maybe she needs help unlocking it.”

Evening – Shweta’s Room

She lay in bed, eyes wide open. Ananya’s photo sat by her nightstand.

“Did I fail you?” she whispered.

She remembered the candlelight. Her hand reaching for the knife to cut the cake. The hum of the crowd counting down—

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Then nothing.

She reached for her journal. Flipped to a blank page. Scribbled:

I saw her reach out. But I didn’t move. Why?

She tapped the pen twice. Then another sentence:

What if someone else was closer to her than me?

Elsewhere – A Flashback Fragment

A little girl’s feet on stairs. A hand reaching out. A taller shadow moving behind her.

A voice whispering:

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’ll be our secret.”

Then—

A fall.

To be continued...

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