For the next two days—
Zeema stayed inside.
The apartment remained closed off from the outside world, curtains half-drawn, silence settling into every corner.
She told herself it was because of her uncle.
The guest room needed to be prepared.
Cleaned.
Arranged.
Perfect.
But that wasn't the only reason.
Every now and then—
That feeling returned.
Faint.
Uninvited.
The memory of a stranger with a camera.
The way something inside her had… shifted.
She didn't like not understanding something.
So she stayed in.
Cleaned.
Rearranged things that didn't need rearranging.
Kept herself occupied.
But the thought didn't leave.
It just… waited.
Monday.
5:30 a.m.
The city was already awake.
Streetlights flickered off one by one as the early morning crowd began to take over—vendors setting up, buses moving, people starting their day before the sun fully rose.
Zeema stood outside the airport entrance, her expression calm, her posture relaxed.
An Uber pulled up beside her.
She stepped forward just as her uncle walked out, pulling a small suitcase behind him.
The moment he saw her—
His face lit up.
"Little one!"
She gave a small nod.
"You came," he said, clearly pleased.
"I said I'll think about it."
"And you decided wisely," he grinned.
She didn't reply.
But she took his suitcase anyway.
The ride back was… familiar.
He talked.
She listened.
Occasionally responded.
Nothing loud.
Nothing dramatic.
Just easy.
Back at the apartment, she showed him the guest room.
Everything was already arranged.
Clean.
Neat.
Ready.
Her uncle looked around, impressed.
"You did all this?"
"Yes."
"For me?"
"Yes."
He placed a hand on his chest.
"I feel important."
"You are temporary," she said calmly.
He laughed.
"That's still something."
She didn't stay long.
After making sure he was settled, she picked up her bag again.
"Already leaving?" he asked.
"College."
"First proper day?"
"Yes."
"Don't scare your classmates."
"No promises."
He smiled.
"Go."
The same Uber took her to college.
The campus was less chaotic than Fresher's Day, but still alive with movement.
Students walked with more familiarity now—less confusion, more direction.
Zeema entered her classroom ten minutes before the lecture.
And just like before—
The noise was already there.
But so was something else.
"Hey!"
Shalini waved enthusiastically from the back.
The same seat.
Last bench.
Near the window.
Saved.
For her.
Zeema walked over and sat down without a word.
"You came," Shalini said, as if it was surprising.
"I attend classes."
"Regularly?"
"Yes."
"That's disappointing. I thought you'd be mysterious."
"I am."
Shalini laughed.
"True."
Classes passed.
Slow.
Normal.
Manageable.
Shalini talked.
Zeema listened.
Occasionally replied.
Lunch break.
"Come," Shalini said, already standing up. "There's a café nearby. Seniors said it's good."
Zeema didn't argue.
They entered the lift along with a few other students.
The space filled quickly, voices overlapping in small conversations.
As the doors were about to close—
Someone stepped in.
Zeema's eyes shifted.
Automatically.
She didn't mean to look.
But she did.
Him.
The same person.
The camera wasn't there now.
But the movement was the same.
Unaware.
Unforced.
Alive.
His ID card hung loosely around his neck.
Third year.(tag color represents the year)
Her gaze rested on him for a second longer than necessary.
No reaction from him.
He hadn't noticed.
Of course he hadn't.
Why would he?
"Zeema?"
Shalini's voice pulled her back.
She turned slightly.
"What?"
"You zoned out," Shalini said, narrowing her eyes playfully.
"I didn't."
"You did."
"I didn't."
Shalini hummed, clearly unconvinced.
But she didn't push.
The lift stopped.
Doors opened.
People moved out.
So did he.
Without a glance back.
Without pause.
Zeema followed.
But something lingered.
Again.
That same—
Subtle.
Unfamiliar pull.
This time—
She noticed it faster.