That evening, back in her room, Aarya closed the door softly and dropped her bag onto the bed.
It bounced once, spilling half its contents onto the quilt.
The locket.
The diary scrap.
Her notes.
They glimmered in the dim yellow glow of her desk lamp, each one looking so ordinary yet feeling like a heartbeat in her hands. She pulled out her chair, sat down, and began to arrange them neatly in front of her.
Like puzzle pieces.
"Alright," she whispered, as if the objects could hear her. "Let's see what you're hiding."
For the next three hours, she was Aarya-the-detective, the self-appointed Sherlock Holmes of her own little world. She read and reread the scrap of paper, tracing the faded words with her fingertip.
I saw him again today. I shouldn't feel this way. But I can't help it. If anyone finds out, I'm finished. But it's like I'm flying when I'm with him…
No name. No date. Just that.
She studied the locket, turning it over, holding it under the light, trying to see if there were initials hidden somewhere in the filigree. Nothing.
Her notebook was already filled with doodles of arrows, question marks, and half-formed theories.
The pigeon incident still played in her mind, over and over. She kept replaying it, as if rewinding a movie she didn't fully understand. What if it had been carrying a message? What if she'd missed something obvious?
She tried connecting everything the bird, the locket, the note. Every path ended in a loop.
By the time she finally looked at the clock, it was almost 9 p.m. Her eyes felt dry from staring too hard at the same three items. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms until her shoulders cracked.
That's when her mother's voice floated in from the kitchen.
"Sweety Aru!"
Aarya blinked. It had been so long since she'd heard her mom call her that.
"Yes, Ma?" she called back, raising her voice.
"When are you going to eat? Do you plan on starving my daughter to death?"
A smile tugged at her lips. "Coming!" she said, pushing her chair back.
When she stepped into the kitchen, the smell of warm dal and fresh rotis wrapped around her like a blanket. Her mother was standing by the stove, wearing her faded maroon apron the one with the tiny tear at the pocket that she never bothered to fix.
They hadn't had a normal dinner together in what felt like forever. Ever since her parents' arguments had become more frequent, dinner was usually a silent affair, each person at a different corner of the house.
But tonight felt… different.
Her mom handed her a plate, her eyes softening. "Sit. Eat before it gets cold."
Aarya did as told, the simple comfort of home-cooked food warming her from the inside. They started talking not about anything big or dramatic, just small things.
"How's school?" her mom asked, scooping more sabzi onto Aarya's plate before she could refuse.
"Same as always," Aarya said, chewing. "Boring math teacher. Annoying deskmate. Lots of homework."
Her mom laughed softly. "Some things never change."
They even joked a little, the way they used to when Aarya was younger. The tension that had been hanging in the air for months seemed to fade for a while.
When dinner was over, her mom started clearing the table. "Tomorrow's Monday, remember. You have to get up early for school."
Aarya stood up and hugged her from behind without thinking. "Goodnight, Ma."
Her mother froze for a second startled then smiled, pinching Aarya's cheek gently. "Goodnight, Sweety Aru."
Aarya carried that smile back into her room. She fell asleep with it, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks.
The next morning, the sunlight cut through her curtains like a stubborn guest refusing to be ignored.
Aarya groaned, dragging herself out of bed. The house was quiet. Too quiet. When she stepped into the kitchen, she found a note on the counter.
Gone to work early. Breakfast is in the fridge. Love, Ma.
She sighed, but it wasn't the heavy sigh of disappointment. This was life, after all. Her parents had jobs, responsibilities. She warmed up the paratha, ate quickly, and grabbed her school bag.
The road to school was its usual mix of noise and colour rickshaw bells, vendors calling out, the faint smell of frying pakoras from the corner stall. Aarya walked quickly, not because she was late, but because her thoughts were racing again.
When she reached her classroom, her deskmate, Priya, was already there, fiddling with her phone.
"You look happy today," Priya said, glancing up.
"Do I?" Aarya asked, sliding into her seat.
"Yeah. It's weird. Did you win the lottery or something?"
Aarya smirked. "Something like that."
They talked idly for a while about homework, about the upcoming cultural fest, about the ridiculous rumour that the school principal once modelled for shampoo ads.
Then, halfway through their conversation, Priya mentioned something offhand.
"Oh, by the way, you know that old watchman near the south gate? He's been telling people he saw someone sneaking around here last week at night."
Aarya froze.
It was the way Priya said it casually, like it was gossip. But the words dug into her mind, sharper than they had any right to be.
South gate. Last week. Night.
Her brain clicked. A sudden flash of memory lit up in her mind a shadow she'd seen from her balcony, the faint glint of something metallic, the distant flutter of wings.
It wasn't random. It wasn't disconnected.
Her pulse quickened. She leaned back slowly, trying not to show how much her mind was spinning.
Wait… if that's true… then…
And just like that, another piece slid into place.
She didn't have the full picture yet, but for the first time, the edges of the puzzle felt like they were aligning.
Her hand gripped the edge of the desk, her breath catching.
Priya kept talking, oblivious.
But Aarya wasn't listening anymore.
Oh my god… she thought. That means…