Aarohi woke long before sunrise.
Her eyes snapped open as if someone had whispered her name in the dark.
Her heart raced.
Her breath came out shaky.
The room was quiet—too quiet—except for the faint rustling of the curtains and the ticking of the wall clock.
She sat up slowly.
Something felt wrong.
Her hand moved instinctively to her wrist—
the place where the beaded bracelet lay.
But it wasn't there.
Her breath froze.
She looked around in panic.
It wasn't on her pillow.
It wasn't on the blanket.
It wasn't on the bedside table.
The bracelet—her only tie to Aarohi's childhood, the only proof that she belonged here—was gone.
Her throat tightened painfully.
Her fingers dug into the sheets.
"No… no, no, no…"
Losing it felt like losing her place in this world.
She scrambled out of bed, dropping to her knees, searching beneath the frame, behind the curtains, under the pile of books—anywhere, everywhere.
Nothing.
Her chest burned.
Tears clouded her vision.
She whispered to herself, "Please… not this… please…"
Why did she feel like she was losing a part of herself?
Why did this feel like a warning?
She forced herself to breathe, standing shakily, wiping her eyes.
Maybe she left it somewhere after school.
Maybe it fell in the hallway.
Maybe someone else picked it up.
Her heart jumped at that thought.
Someone else.
Someone who wasn't family.
Someone who wasn't a student.
Someone who could have been… watching.
Her mind flashed back—
The gate.
The hoodie.
The silence.
The feeling of being watched.
Her fingers curled into a fist.
"No," she whispered firmly. "Not again."
She would not let her second life turn into what her first life became—
a place where everyone took from her, misunderstood her, broke her piece by piece.
Not again.
A soft knock startled her.
"Aarohi?" her mother's voice. "You're awake early?"
Aarohi quickly wiped her tears and opened the door.
Her mother's gentle eyes immediately noticed the redness in hers.
"Oh sweetheart…" she cupped her face. "What's wrong?"
Aarohi hesitated.
Should she tell her?
Should she say she was scared?
That she lost something important?
That her past was catching up?
Her voice trembled. "I… lost my bracelet."
Her mother's expression softened. "We'll find it. Don't worry."
Aarohi nodded, even though worry was already chewing at her heart.
Her mother ran a soothing hand over her hair. "Come. Breakfast is ready. After school, we'll look everywhere."
But Aarohi wasn't sure the bracelet was simply misplaced.
Something inside her whispered otherwise—
It was taken.
---
At school, she tried to stay calm.
She checked her desk.
Her locker.
The playground.
The banyan tree.
The bathroom.
Every hallway.
Nothing.
By lunchtime, she felt sick with worry.
Mia tugged on her arm. "Aarohi, are you okay? You look pale."
Aarohi forced a smile. "I'm fine."
Mia frowned. "No you're not. Want to sit with us?"
Aarohi hesitated.
In her first life, she always sat alone during lunch.
No one invited her.
No one noticed when she cried quietly.
But Mia and the other kids waited for her—warm, innocent, hopeful.
She nodded slowly.
They sat under the big banyan tree. Birds hopped around their feet. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in soft, dancing patterns.
Almost peaceful…
Until Aarohi's gaze fell on something in the grass.
A piece of thread.
Pink.
Her breath caught.
She leaned down and picked it up with trembling fingers.
It was unmistakably from her bracelet.
Her throat closed.
Someone had broken it.
Or torn it.
Or taken it apart.
On purpose.
Mia noticed her expression. "Aarohi? What happened?"
Aarohi didn't answer.
Because she couldn't.
The warmth of this life…
The security of this family…
The innocence of these friendships…
They were all real.
But her past…
Her trauma…
Her shadow…
Was real too.
And it had already reached her.
Aarohi clenched the tiny thread tightly.
Her heart whispered something she didn't want to believe:
Someone followed you across lifetimes.
---
After school, Arin waited at the gate again.
He grinned. "Ready to go home?"
But Aarohi didn't move.
Her eyes were locked across the road.
The same place where the figure stood yesterday.
And today—
There it was again.
Black hoodie.
Still.
Watching.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"Aarohi?" Arin followed her gaze.
The figure turned.
And walked away.
Not fast.
Not threatening.
Just disappearing into the crowd.
Aarohi's voice came out barely above a whisper.
"Arin… someone's following me."
Arin froze.
Turned fully toward her.
His joking expression vanished.
"What?"
Aarohi swallowed hard. "I'm… I'm sure. And I think they—"
She opened her palm.
Pink thread.
Arin's eyes widened.
"Aarohi… who did this?"
Her voice cracked.
"I don't know."
But her heart did.
Someone who knew her.
Someone who remembered her.
Someone who had followed her beyond death.
---
That night, Aarohi sat on her bed, staring at the broken thread.
The moonlight made it glow faintly.
Her body felt cold.
Her fingers trembled.
Her mind whispered a truth she didn't want to hear—
"Trauma doesn't disappear when the body dies."
"People don't forget you just because you start over."
And then, a knock sounded on her window.
Soft.
Barely there.
But real.
Aarohi froze.
Her heartbeat thudded painfully.
She turned her head slowly…
And saw a slip of paper pushed under the window frame.
A chill ran down her spine.
Hands shaking, she reached for it.
One short sentence stared back at her:
"You're not the only one who remembers."
Aarohi's breath shattered in her throat.
Someone knew her.
Someone knew she had lived before.
Someone had followed her into her new life.
Her fingers crumpled the paper as fear washed over her—
cold, familiar, suffocating.
Her past life…
was no longer behind her.
It had found a way in.
---