Kabir ne hansi mein sirf ek short sa “hmm” diya, par uski nazar corridor ke end par jam gayi thi. Wahan Dr. Meera Kapoor tezi se aa rahi thi—faculty coat neatly draped, hair pinned, heels ki awaaz floor par crisp aur measured. Woh hamesha ki tarah composed lag rahi thi, lekin aaj uske chehre par woh usual polished distance nahi thi. Ek tarah ki urgency thi, jo sirf un logon ko dikhti hai jo attention dene ke liye trained hote hain.
Kabir ne dheere se Arjun ko elbow maara. “Dekho. Prof Kapoor.”
Dr. Meera unke paas ruk gayi, jaise corridor ka flow uske aane se khud side ho gaya ho. “Tum log room 69 ke boys ho, right?” usne casual tone mein poocha, lekin uski aankhon mein casual kuch bhi nahi tha.
Rohan ne politely head nod kiya. “Ji, ma’am.”
“Attendance records dekhne the,” Dr. Meera ne kaha. “Kunal ka naam kahin recent logs mein aaya tha kya?” Usne last word thoda dheere bola, jaise corridor ke walls bhi sun rahe hon. “Ya kisi ne uske baare mein kuch unusual notice kiya?”
Kabir ke face par ek second ke liye expression hard ho gaya. Kunal ka naam campus mein aise ghul gaya tha jaise koi purana stain—har jagah, par kahin clearly nahi. Arjun ne halka sa smile maintain kiya, par woh smile uski aankhon tak nahi pahunchi.
“Ma’am, attendance toh Rohan hi dekh leta hai,” Arjun bola. “Aur Kunal ka… matlab, jo bhi hua, humein sirf rumours hi mile hain.”
Dr. Meera ki gaze ek second ke liye Kabir par tiki, phir woh notice board ki taraf mud gayi. “Rumours se kaam nahi chalega. Agar tum log kuch dekhte ho, report karna. Especially maintenance wing ke aas-paas.”
“Maintenance wing?” Rohan ne poocha. “Wahan toh lock hai.”
“Exactly,” she said, and for the first time her voice lost a little of its neat faculty polish. “Isliye pooch rahi hoon.”
Woh bina aur kuch kahe aage nikal gayi. Uske jaane ke baad corridor phir se normal pretend karne laga, lekin hawa mein ek extra layer reh gayi..
Hostel terrace par hawa aaj kuch zyada hi teekhi thi, jaise kisi ne building ke kone-kone mein purani khabar chhupa di ho aur ab woh khulne se pehle hi phadphada rahi ho. Half-lit sodium lamp baar-baar blink karta tha, aur uske peele ujale mein Room 69 ke teen shadowy figures ek chhoti si golchai banakar khade the. Neeche campus zinda tha—canteen se plates ki khanak, ground se kisi junior ki whistle, distant laughter—par yahan upar sab kuch alag lag raha tha, jaise terrace campus ka hissa kam aur kisi aur cheez ka border zyada ho.
Rohan ne apne phone ki screen par ek rough timeline khola aur bola, “Dekho, agar Kunal raat ko sach mein eleven ke baad nikla tha, toh uske baad ka gap sirf twenty minutes ka nahi ho sakta. Itna clean gap hota toh koi na koi dekh leta.”
Arjun ne railing par haath rakhte hue neeche andhera dekha. Uski voice usual light thi, par usmein ab ek tightness aa gayi thi. “Par issue ye hai ki log dekhte hain, bas yaad nahi rakhte. Hostel mein sab kuch half-attention pe chalta hai. Koi bolta hai ‘main corridor mein tha,’ aur agle minute usko yaad aata hai ki woh actually mess ke bahar tha.”
Rohan ne irritation se spectacles adjust kiye. “Exactly. Isi liye minutes matter karte hain. Kunal ka room se nikalna, stairwell tak pahunchna, phir gate side… sab. Agar koi usse rok raha tha, toh humko uske exact window ka pata hona chahiye.”
Arjun ne hansi ka ek halka sa attempt kiya, jo hawa mein hi gir gaya. “Wah, detective Rohan. Campus ka Sherlock. Bas dekhna, case solve karte karte attendance bhi solve kar dega.”
Rohan ne uski taraf dekha, phir serious ho gaya. “Mazaak mat kar. Kunal missing hai.”
Arjun ne ek second ke liye kuch nahi bola. Phir usne apni jaw set ki aur bola, “Main mazaak nahi kar raha. Bas panic se kuch nahi milega.”
Tabhi Kabir terrace door ke paas aaya, haath mein phone pakde. Uska face pehle se hi guarded tha, lekin ab usmein ek aur layer thi—annoyance aur alertness ka mix. “Mujhe ek call aaya.”
Rohan turant seedha hua. “Kis ka?”
Kabir ne screen dikhayi. Unknown number. “Pata nahi.”
“Uthaaya?” Arjun ne poocha.
Kabir ne sir hilaya. “Haan.”
“Bola kya?”
Kabir ka jawab aane se pehle hi usne phone ko dekha, jaise usmein se awaaz phir nikal aayegi. “Kuch nahi. Sirf breathing. Phir… ek metallic sa sound. Jaise koi pipe ya chain kisi hard surface pe ghis gayi ho. Phir cut.”
Terrace par ek pal ke liye hawa bhi ruk gayi ho aisa laga. Rohan ka face pale sa ho gaya. “Tumne number save kiya?”
“Unknown tha,” Kabir ne short reply diya. “And call duration was seven seconds.”
Arjun ne phone ki taraf haath badhaya, phir ruk gaya. “Voicemail?”
“Blank.”
Rohan ne ek deep breath li. “Ye prank bhi ho sakta hai.”
Kabir ne usko dekha. “Ho sakta hai..
Old seminar room ke bahar wali corridor mein shaam ka light bulb half-flicker kar raha tha, jaise campus khud decide nahi kar paa raha ho ki andar kisi ko aana chahiye ya nahi. Arts block ke peeche wali hawa mein chalk-dust, wet leaves aur stale notice-board glue ki mixed smell thi. Door ke paas ek rusted plaque latak raha tha: SEMINAR ROOM 4. Neeche kisi ne marker se likh diya tha, ROOM 69—LOL. Kabir ne ek second ke liye woh dekhkar hansi roki, phir uski smile apne aap gayab ho gayi. Aaj is campus mein koi joke safe nahi lag raha tha.
“Late ho gaya,” Tara ki awaaz andhere se nikli.
Kabir ne mudkar dekha. Tara wall ke paas khadi thi, backpack ek shoulder se latka hua, baal thode disordered, jaise woh seedha kisi storm se nikal kar aayi ho. Uski eyes bright thi, par unmein mazaak kam, impatience zyada. Wild energy aisi ki room ka locked door bhi uske saamne thoda aur weak lagne laga.
“Tu pehle aa gayi?” Kabir ne dheere se poocha.
“Main wait kar rahi thi,” Tara boli. “Aur wait karna mujhe pasand nahi hai.”
Kabir ne ek short breath chhodi, half-laugh, half-nerve. “Kis cheez ka itna issue hai?”
Tara ne seedha uski taraf dekha. “Kunal ka.”
Naam sunte hi corridor ki chill aur tez ho gayi. Kabir ka jaw tighten hua. “Mujhe pata hai.”
“Pata hai toh yahan stand karke hero mat ban.” Tara ek step aage aayi. “Campus mein sab log normal pretend kar rahe hain. Jaise koi missing person bas attendance se absent ho.”
Kabir ne aankh jhuka li. “Main pretend nahi kar raha.”
“Achha?” Tara ka tone sharp tha. “Phir kyun lag raha hai jaise tu bhi kisi ko kuch bol nahi raha?”
Yeh seedha nishana tha. Kabir ne pehli baar usse jawab dene ke bajay deewar ki taraf dekha, jahan old seminar room ki peeli paint crack ho chuki thi. “Because bolne se kya hota hai?”
“Pata nahi,” Tara ne kaha, aur uski voice ab thodi softer thi, “par chup rehne se definitely kuch nahi hota.”