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The first thing Aishwarya heard that morning was her alarm.

The second thing she heard was someone repeatedly pressing her doorbell.

She buried her face deeper into her pillow.

The doorbell rang again.

And again.

And again.

Whoever was outside clearly had no intention of leaving.

Aishwarya opened one eye.

6:47 AM.

Too early.

Far too early.

The bell rang for the fifth time.

She sat up.

"One day," she muttered, dragging a hand through her hair, "I'm going to disconnect that thing."

The bell rang again.

Aishwarya climbed out of bed and shuffled toward the door, looking about as cheerful as someone being escorted to their execution.

The moment she opened it, a bright smile greeted her.

"Good morning!"

Aishwarya immediately considered closing the door again.

Standing outside was Nisha.

Unfortunately.

Nisha somehow possessed enough energy to power an entire city before breakfast.

Nobody knew how.

Scientists should probably study her.

"Why are you here?" Aishwarya asked.

Nisha held up two paper bags.

"I brought breakfast."

Aishwarya narrowed her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I'm a wonderful friend."

"That's suspicious."

"It should be."

Nisha walked inside before she could be stopped.

Aishwarya sighed and closed the door.

This was her life now.

Two years ago she had barely known anyone in Mumbai.

Now people entered her apartment without permission.

Life came at you fast.

The apartment itself wasn't particularly large.

A small living room.

A kitchen.

A bedroom.

Just enough space for one person.

It wasn't luxurious.

It wasn't terrible.

It was home.

At least for now.

Nisha dropped onto the couch and began unpacking breakfast.

"You look awful."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I just woke up."

"You look awful every morning."

Aishwarya stared at her.

Nisha grinned.

Aishwarya threw a cushion at her.

The cushion missed completely.

Nisha laughed so hard she nearly dropped her food.

"Go get ready," she said.

"We have class in two hours."

"We have class in three hours."

"Exactly."

"That's not how time works."

"It is for me."

Aishwarya gave up.

Arguing with Nisha before breakfast was like arguing with a wall.

A very loud wall.

She disappeared into her room while Nisha continued talking to absolutely nobody.

When she returned twenty minutes later, breakfast had already been arranged on the coffee table.

Two cups of tea.

Several sandwiches.

And somehow, despite living alone, her apartment looked cleaner than it had before.

She chose not to question it.

Some mysteries were beyond human understanding.

"Did you finish Professor Rao's assignment?"

Nisha asked.

Aishwarya froze.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

She lowered her cup.

"...Which assignment?"

Nisha gasped.

The sound carried genuine betrayal.

"Aishwarya Bhatt."

"No."

"You forgot."

"No."

"You forgot."

Aishwarya looked away.

Nisha pointed dramatically.

"She forgot."

"I remembered it yesterday."

"And then?"

"I forgot it today."

Nisha collapsed backward onto the couch.

"This is the woman who reminds everyone else about deadlines."

"It happens."

"It shouldn't."

Aishwarya accepted her fate.

She had, in fact, forgotten the assignment.

Completely.

Her morning instantly became worse.

The two of them left the apartment an hour later.

The streets outside were already busy.

Shopkeepers opened their stores.

Street vendors prepared for the day.

Students filled the sidewalks.

Cars honked every few seconds.

Mumbai never really eased into the day.

It simply started running and expected everyone to keep up.

The college wasn't far from the apartment.

Most mornings they walked.

Mostly because Nisha enjoyed talking.

And because auto drivers seemed determined to test her patience.

"By the way," Nisha said, "guess who failed yesterday's quiz."

"Who?"

"Rohan."

Aishwarya blinked.

"The same Rohan who spent three days studying?"

"The very same."

"That's tragic."

"He looked like his soul left his body."

Aishwarya laughed.

"Poor guy."

"He deserves it."

"That's harsh."

"He told me chemistry was easy."

"Ah."

"Exactly."

Now it made sense.

The college gates came into view ahead.

Students moved in and out constantly.

Some rushed toward classes.

Some sat beneath trees.

Others looked like they regretted every decision that had brought them there.

A normal day.

A completely ordinary day.

At least that's how it appeared.

And if anyone had asked Aishwarya what she expected from today, she probably would have answered:

Nothing.

Just another day.

Just another lecture.

Just another assignment she forgot to complete.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing important.

Certainly nothing that would change the course of her life.

But then again, the biggest changes rarely announced themselves beforehand.

Sometimes they arrived quietly.

On ordinary mornings.

In ordinary places.

When nobody was paying attention.

By the time Aishwarya and Nisha reached the science block, the first lecture had already become the topic of discussion among half the students in the corridor.

Apparently, Professor Rao had announced a surprise test.

Again.

Nobody was happy.

"This man wakes up every morning and chooses violence," Nisha declared.

A group of students walking ahead immediately agreed.

One even turned around and gave a thumbs up.

Aishwarya laughed.

"Maybe he just likes seeing people suffer."

"Then he should become a movie villain."

"He already is."

The corridor buzzed with conversations.

Students leaned against walls.

Some revised notes at the last minute.

Others had already accepted defeat and were discussing lunch instead.

Aishwarya and Nisha entered their classroom.

The room was nearly full.

A familiar voice called out immediately.

"There she is."

A boy sitting near the back waved dramatically.

Rohan.

The same Rohan who had apparently failed yesterday's quiz.

"Look who decided to show up."

"I come here every day," Aishwarya replied.

"That's exactly what someone who skips class would say."

"I literally sit in front of you."

"Allegedly."

Nisha dropped into the seat beside him.

"You failed the quiz."

Rohan looked offended.

"You didn't have to attack me the second I saw you."

"It had to be done."

"It really didn't."

Aishwarya took her usual seat.

The classroom slowly filled.

Students settled down.

Bags landed on desks.

Water bottles appeared.

Conversations grew louder.

And then louder still.

College students possessed a unique ability to turn any room into a marketplace within minutes.

Aishwarya pulled out her notebook.

She wasn't particularly eager for today's classes.

But she wasn't dreading them either.

After two years, college had become routine.

Assignments.

Exams.

Practical sessions.

Group projects nobody wanted to do.

The usual.

She glanced toward the window.

The weather looked pleasant.

For now.

Mumbai weather had a habit of changing its mind halfway through the day.

A sudden commotion near the classroom entrance pulled her attention away.

A girl hurried inside carrying a stack of papers that looked one strong breeze away from disaster.

Halfway to her desk, exactly what everyone expected happened.

The papers slipped.

Hundreds of sheets scattered across the floor.

The entire class collectively winced.

The girl stood frozen.

For a moment nobody moved.

Then several students immediately got up to help.

Aishwarya was among them.

Within a minute the papers had been collected.

Crisis averted.

The girl looked relieved.

"Thank you."

"No problem," Aishwarya said.

"You're a lifesaver."

"I picked up paper."

"Still counts."

The girl returned to her seat.

The classroom settled once more.

A few minutes later, Professor Rao entered.

The room became significantly quieter.

Not silent.

That would have required divine intervention.

But quieter.

Attendance began.

Names echoed throughout the classroom.

Students answered one after another.

Some enthusiastically.

Some barely awake.

One person accidentally answered for another student and caused several minutes of confusion.

The lecture started.

And as expected, it lasted approximately three years.

At least that's what it felt like.

By the time the professor finally dismissed the class, the entire room looked emotionally exhausted.

Students rushed toward the door.

Freedom had arrived.

Outside, the campus was alive with activity.

Groups gathered beneath trees.

Students occupied benches.

Some played music through speakers despite repeated complaints from everyone else.

Aishwarya walked alongside her friends toward the cafeteria.

The lunch rush had already begun.

The line stretched farther than anyone appreciated.

"Why is it always crowded?" Rohan complained.

"Because people enjoy food," Nisha replied.

"Selfish behavior."

"I know."

Eventually they found an empty table.

A small miracle.

The conversation drifted between assignments, professors, exam schedules, and increasingly ridiculous topics.

At one point an argument broke out over whether a penguin could survive in Mumbai.

Nobody knew how the conversation reached that point.

Nobody questioned it either.

That was friendship.

Sometimes discussions simply appeared out of nowhere.

Aishwarya listened more than she spoke.

Not because she was shy anymore.

That phase had disappeared a long time ago.

She simply enjoyed watching the others argue.

Especially when they were wrong.

Which happened often.

Very often.

For a while, everything felt normal.

Comfortably normal.

The kind of ordinary day people rarely remembered years later.

The kind of day that passed without leaving much behind.

At least that's what everyone at the table believed.

None of them knew that before the year ended, their lives would become connected to events far bigger than exams, practical sessions, or college gossip.

But for now, they were just students.

Laughing over lunch.

Complaining about classes.

And enjoying another ordinary afternoon.

The final lecture of the day felt longer than it actually was.

By three o'clock, most students had mentally left the classroom.

Physically, however, they remained trapped.

Professor Rao continued writing equations across the board with the determination of a man who had no intention of ending class early.

Aishwarya rested her chin on her hand and stared at her notebook.

Around her, students fought for survival.

One was doodling in the corner of a textbook.

Another appeared to be asleep with their eyes open.

A talent Aishwarya secretly admired.

A folded piece of paper suddenly landed on her desk.

She looked behind her.

Rohan gestured toward it.

Curious, she unfolded the note.

How many chapters of today's lecture are you understanding?

Aishwarya grabbed a pen.

Approximately none.

The note returned to Rohan.

A few seconds later it came back.

Same.

She bit back a smile.

The note made one final trip.

We are going to fail.

This time she didn't respond.

Some things didn't need to be written.

The bell finally rang.

For a moment nobody moved.

The class sat in stunned silence as if afraid it might be a trick.

Then reality set in.

Students immediately packed their bags.

The room emptied within minutes.

Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the campus.

The atmosphere had changed.

Morning energy had disappeared.

Now everyone just wanted to go home.

Aishwarya walked with her friends toward the main gate.

The conversation wandered between weekend plans, assignments, and complaints about professors.

Mostly complaints.

"One day," Nisha said, "I'm going to graduate."

"That's usually how college works," Aishwarya replied.

"Then I'm never coming back."

"Also usually how college works."

"I'll come back," Rohan said.

"Why?" Nisha asked.

"To make sure everybody knows I suffered here."

The group laughed.

For a moment everything felt easy.

Simple.

The kind of afternoon that blended into countless others.

Near the gate, students slowly began separating.

Some headed toward bus stops.

Others toward train stations.

A few remained behind on campus.

One by one, the group split apart.

Eventually only Aishwarya and Nisha remained.

"You remembered the assignment, right?"

Nisha asked suddenly.

Aishwarya froze.

Nisha gasped.

"No."

"I forgot again."

"You had all day."

"I know."

"You had literally all day."

Aishwarya sighed.

This was becoming embarrassing.

Nisha looked personally offended.

"How are you still alive?"

"Luck."

"That explains a lot."

They parted ways a few minutes later.

Aishwarya began the walk back to her apartment.

The city felt different in the evening.

The roads were busier.

The sidewalks more crowded.

People hurried home after work.

Shop signs flickered to life.

Street vendors prepared for the evening rush.

She passed familiar buildings.

Familiar shops.

Familiar faces.

Two years was enough time for a city to stop feeling foreign.

Mumbai had become familiar.

Comfortable.

The walk home was peaceful.

No assignments.

No lectures.

No friends shouting her name from across campus.

Just the noise of the city and her own thoughts.

When she finally reached her apartment building, the sun had begun its slow descent behind the skyline.

She climbed the stairs.

Unlocked her door.

And stepped inside.

Silence greeted her.

For the first time all day, she was alone.

She dropped her bag onto a chair and immediately regretted sitting down.

Because the moment she sat, she knew she wasn't getting up anytime soon.

The assignment could wait.

Dinner could wait.

Everything could wait.

Just five minutes.

Five minutes became twenty.

Then thirty.

Eventually she forced herself off the couch and headed toward the kitchen.

Outside her window, the city continued moving.

Thousands of people lived their lives unaware of one another.

Students worried about exams.

Workers worried about deadlines.

Families worried about tomorrow.

Ordinary people living ordinary lives.

The world kept turning.

The evening passed quietly.

And when night finally settled over the city, Aishwarya prepared for another day.

Another lecture.

Another assignment.

Another ordinary morning.

At least, that's what she expected.

Because some stories begin with dramatic moments.

Others begin so quietly that nobody notices.

Not even the people living them.