Chapter 2: No Going Back

It was 5 a.m.—two and a half hours before I usually left for school.

The air outside was thick with the smell of wet earth and the distant cawing of crows—our colony never really slept, not even at this hour. Ananya is my neighbour. We grew up together, childhood friends.

Our parents are close, and ever since primary school, Ananya and I have always attended the same school, the same class.

Our parents even tasked me with looking after her.

The two of us always went to and from school together.

Maa used to say, "Beta, Ananya ka dhyaan rakhna. You know how she is—always in some lala-land."

No matter what, I can’t go out with her today.

I got up decisively and went to the bathroom.

In the cold December winter, I stood under freezing water for an hour, my teeth clattering like dice in a steel tumbler. I let the icy spray numb me, thinking maybe this was my punishment for caring too much in my last life.

By six o’clock, my forehead was burning with fever.

At seven, Maa pushed open my bedroom door, calling me for breakfast and school. My fever hadn’t budged.

"Maa, can I not go to school today?" I rasped.

She touched my forehead, the cold bangles on her wrist pressing softly against my skin. Her face twisted with worry, and she muttered a small prayer, her lips moving silently as she touched my forehead with the edge of her dupatta—her own little ritual for warding off nazar. "Arrey beta, how did you get sick all of a sudden? Kaun bhejega tujhe school aise?"

"Alright, I’ll call your teacher and ask for leave for you."

"Come, your papa and I will take you to the hospital now."

Papa, still at the table, heard Maa and quickly finished his meal. He wiped his hands on the end of his vest and hurried over, scooping me up like I was five again. His aftershave mingled with the sweet steam of Maa’s chai drifting in from the kitchen—a scent that always meant home.

Clutching my phone, I only managed to relax and drift off when I saw a reply to my WhatsApp message—Sneha’s name lighting up the screen, a flicker of reassurance in the chaos.