Dr. Meera kept her gaze on him. “I’m saying campus is not as innocent as it likes to pretend. People don’t always disappear in open sight. Sometimes they are edited out.”
That landed harder than any accusation.
She gathered her papers neatly, every page aligned like she was filing away a verdict. At the door, she paused without turning fully back.
“Ek aur cheez,” she said. “If you keep digging, do it carefully. Someone here is actively managing what gets remembered. And when memory is managed, truth becomes a convenience.”
Then she left.
For a second nobody moved..
Imran ke hostel room mein raat kaafi der tak chipki hui thi. Corridor ki tube light kabhi jalti, kabhi flicker karti, aur andar table lamp ki peeli roshni bas itni jagah bana rahi thi ki bed ke paas rakhi chair, wall pe latka backpack, aur study table par khula notebook dikh sake. Room 69 ke baaki log apne-apne kaam mein the, par yahan shaanti kuch zyada hi gehri thi. Aisi shaanti jo normal nahi lagti thi.
Imran window ke paas khada tha, phone haath mein, screen par ek purani photo ko baar-baar dekhte hue. Kunal ki nahi. Bas college notice board ki ek blurry picture, jismein kuchh likha tha, aur corner mein ek shadow jaisa shape tha. Imran ne screen lock kar diya aur saans chhodi.
Tabhi halki si knock hui.
Do baar. Phir ek pause. Aur phir door bas utna sa khula jitna ek secret ko andar aane ke liye chahiye hota hai.
Mehak andar aayi.
Usne uska oversized T-shirt pehna hua tha, jo us par jaise jaan-bujhkar thoda aur loose lag raha tha. Fabric shoulders se neeche softly gir raha tha, aur poora look simple hote hue bhi unnervingly close feel ho raha tha. Usne apne baal loosely tie kiye the, aur uski aankhon mein woh familiar sa calm tha jo bina shor ke room ka temperature badal deta tha.
“Tumne late bulaaya,” usne dheere se kaha, door ko halkasa band karte hue.
Imran ne bas ek second usse dekha. “Mujhe laga tum aane wali ho.”
Mehak ki lips par ek chhota sa half-smile aaya. “Aur agar nahi aati?”
“Phir bhi,” Imran ne shoulders shrug kiye, lekin awaaz mein woh usual composed edge kam tha.
Woh table ke paas aayi. Room ke low light mein uski presence aur bhi quiet lag rahi thi, jaise koi sound bina create kiye close aa gaya ho. Imran ne uske haath mein ek chhota sa packet dekha.
“Yeh kya hai?”
“Tumhari chai,” Mehak boli. “Aur haan, itna dramatic mat bano. Main poison nahi laayi.”
Imran ne ek short laugh diya, almost surprised by it. “College mein trust issues normal hain.”
“Especially Room 69 mein,” Mehak ne eyebrow lift ki. “Naam hi suspicious hai.”
“Isme meri koi galti nahi.”
“Hmm.” Woh bed ke kinare baith gayi, packet ko side table par rakhte hue. “Phir bhi, tumhari face se lag raha hai jaise tum kisi aur cheez se pareshan ho.”
Imran ne jawab dene se pehle uski taraf dekha. The room was too quiet, the lamp too soft, and Mehak too close in that unspoken way that made every small movement noticeable. Usne bas apni palm table edge par rakhi. Mehak ki ungliyan uske haath ke paas aakar rukiं, phir halka sa touch hua—ek brush, bas itna sa ki dono ne notice kiya, lekin kisi ne us moment ko todha nahi.
Imran ne nazar hata li. “Bas kuchh soch raha tha.”
“About Kunal?”
Uska naam aate hi room mein ek aur layer aa gayi. Imran ne haan mein sir hilaaya. “Aur woh note bhi. Aur Dr. Meera ka weirdly calm face.”.
Auditorium ke piche wali old service road par raat ka andhera aur bhi ghana lag raha tha. Main gate ki taraf se campus ka noise bahut pehle mar chuka tha; yahan bas ek do tube lights the jo kabhi jalti, kabhi hichkichati. Arjun sabse aage chal raha tha, phone ki torch ko zameen par sweep karte hue, jaise koi stage pe entry le raha ho. “Bas yahin hona chahiye,” usne dheere se kaha. “Faculty vehicle ka rumor yahin tak aaya tha.”
Rohan ne apni specs ko adjust kiya aur mudde ki baat pe aa gaya. “Rumor nahi, pattern. Agar gaadi yahan ruki thi, to surface pe kuch na kuch milega.”
Kabir ne ek pathar ko side kiya. “Pattern-wattern baad mein. Pehle clue dhundo.”
Imran, jo ab tak chup tha, achanak ruk gaya. “Yahan,” usne neeche ishara kiya.
Zameen ke edge par fresh tire marks the, purane concrete par bhi black rubber ki seedhi lakeer bani hui. Marks bahut recent lag rahe the, jaise gaadi bas kuch ghante pehle hi reverse karke nikli ho. Arjun ne torch aur neeche ki. Ek broken zip tie pada tha, half-cut, aur uske paas ek chhota sa plastic shred atka hua tha.
“Yeh normal loading ka scene nahi hai,” Rohan ne bola, voice low ho gayi. “Zip tie ka matlab restraint ya packaging. Controlled movement.”
Kabir ne huff kiya. “Matlab kisi ko yahan se lift karke le gaye. Spontaneous disappearance nahi.”
Arjun ne zip tie uthaya, phir zameen par pada ek jala hua paper dekh liya. Uska ek kona ab bhi halka sa smoke-stained tha. “Yeh memo tha,” usne kaha. “Half-burned.”
Rohan ne usse carefully khinch kar khola. Paper ka aadha hissa nikal aaya, baaki sab kaala ho chuka tha. Jo words bach gaye the, unmein se kuch ab bhi padhe ja sakte the: “transfer,” “approval,” aur ek partial line—“Kunal R. / log ref.”
Imran ne us line ko do baar dekha. “Kunal ka naam.”
“Ya uska reference,” Rohan ne turant correction diya. “Context missing hai. Lekin itna clear hai ki koi formal record tha.”
Kabir ka jawline tight ho gaya. “Toh jo bhi Kunal ke saath hua, woh random nahi tha. Koi paper trail tha. Aur jiske paas trail hai, woh humse ek step aage hai.”
Arjun ne memo ko fold karke pocket mein rakha. Uski usual charm wali smile ab gayab thi. “Aur jo usse aage hai, woh campus ke andar hi hai.”
Woh teeno palat hi rahe the ki suddenly road ke end se ek safed light sweep hui—jaise kisi vehicle ka headlamp ya security torch. Beam unke upar ek second ke liye aakar ruki, phir cut ho gayi. Sab froze ho gaye.
Rohan ne whisper kiya, “Kisi ne dekh liya.”
Kabir ne bina awaaz ke saans chhodi. Imran ne side path ki darkness mein ek nazar daali, jaise exit dhoondh raha ho. Arjun ne group ko ek gesture diya—move..