The next morning, I didn't snooze my alarm. For once, I didn't even need it.
I sat up the moment it buzzed, already wide awake. My mind was alert, scanning the early morning silence of the dorm like a detective in a thriller novel. Nothing had changed—and yet, everything had. The corridor light flickered as usual, the footsteps of sleepy girls shuffled by as usual, but I was not the same as yesterday. I wasn't just going through the routine anymore—I was watching, noticing.
During yoga, my breaths were slower, more measured. I wasn't stretching to relax. I was stretching to stay focused, to clear my head so I could remember every detail of yesterday—every voice, every movement, every person who might have looked at me for a second too long.
I even reached the bathroom earlier today, almost proud of myself. No delays. No irritation. Just a strange excitement that simmered beneath my skin, like a secret waiting to be unfolded.
The walk to class was uneventful, but my eyes kept scanning the crowd. Were any of them glancing at me differently? Were any of them aware that I was watching?
The schedule was the same as yesterday—Computer, Science, then English. I settled into my seat with my books but not before checking the desks around mine. Nothing strange. No notes. No misplaced pens. I stared at the steel flask on my table, angling it slightly to catch a reflection of the row behind me.
There. A quick glance. Averted eyes. I wasn't sure if I imagined it, but for a moment, I felt it—someone looking when they thought I wasn't.
My pen paused over the page. I didn't want to be paranoid. But I also didn't want to miss it. "Act normal, observe everything," I told myself.
When the teacher entered, I forced myself to turn my attention to the board. But the feeling stayed. Eyes. On me. Not obvious. Not constant. But steady—like the presence of a shadow that didn't belong to the sun.
By lunchtime, I was starting to feel like a spy in my own school.
I sat with the usual group of classmates, making polite conversation, nodding at jokes I barely registered. I was too busy observing who came in late, who sat where, who lingered around our table without reason.
One girl from the back benches—Nivetha, I think—walked past our table thrice. Once to fill her water bottle. Once to throw a small wrapper. Once… just walking. Was she always this restless? Had I simply never noticed?
Or was I noticing too much now?
"Earth to Nila," Aarthi said, snapping her fingers in front of me.
I blinked. "Huh?"
"You spaced out. Again. What's going on?"
"Nothing," I said with a shrug and a quick smile. "Just… trying to remember if I forgot any homework."
She rolled her eyes. "You? Miss Always-Prepared? Yeah, right."
The laughter moved on, but my eyes didn't. I saw Nishanth from across the courtyard, laughing with his gang. For a moment, he looked my way and smirked, like he knew something I didn't. Or maybe I was imagining that too.
After lunch, I returned to class a few minutes early. Most of the room was still empty. I placed my bag on my desk and started pulling out my pencil pouch when I noticed it.
A paperclip.
A plain, silver paperclip placed on top of my notebook. The one I had kept inside my bag this morning. I never leave my notes out, especially not the one with last night's phone call scribbled on the back page.
My heart did a weird flip.
I slowly opened the notebook. Nothing written. No new page. But… someone had opened it. Someone had seen it.
I scanned the class. A couple of girls had just entered. None looked at me.
I picked up the paperclip and placed it in my pouch, my fingers trembling slightly. Not out of fear. But because this was real. Someone was playing with me. Not threatening—but not random either.
It wasn't an accident. It wasn't coincidence.
It was a message.
And I was finally listening.
Then I realised—all the weird things weren't happening in the hostel. Not a single odd moment there. The strange calls, the paperclip incident, that odd sensation of being watched—it all tied back to the classroom.
That made things easier and scarier at the same time.
And about the phone—just because the girls' hostel has only one having phone chance and no one's supposed to have personal mobiles, doesn't mean the boys are following the rules. Come on, which school kid nowadays follows rules? If they really want, they'll find a way. Secret phones, hidden SIMs, passing notes—the usual high school spy drama.
So if my guess is right, this person—the one watching me, sending signs, probably even calling—is a boy. A boy from my class.
That immediately cut the list in half. No need to keep staring at the girls like a paranoid creep anymore. If I narrowed it down to boys, and not just any boys, but the ones who know me well, or used to know me well in the past life…
Then it was just 5 or 6 people. Maybe 7, max.
Because in this timeline, I hadn't bonded with them yet. But in the last life, they were there. Some close friends, some who slowly became more. Not everyone, of course. The rest of the class had just been classmates—hi, bye, some group project chitchats—but nothing deep. So unless someone magically became Sherlock Holmes, they couldn't possibly know that I was behaving differently this time around.
Only someone who knew me very well would notice the shift. My choice of language class, the way I speak, even my handwriting—it's all new. A classmate wouldn't notice. A friend might. A close friend definitely would.
So if I trusted my instinct, I just had to observe those 6 boys. The ones who became important to me over time. Some were close in 10th, some only during 12th or after that. But they were constants in the old timeline.
What if they're the same in this one too?
That was the plan then—get close to them again. Naturally, not all at once. I didn't want to come off as weird or fake. Just a simple "reconnecting" vibe. Watch how they talk, how they react when I speak, whether they notice more than they should.
And yes, whether they slip up.
Which brings me right back to Nishanth.
He's definitely acting like he knows more than he's letting on. From the class leader teasing, to that look he gave me during lunch, to the way he's been just a little more available than necessary—it's all suspicious.
In the past life, we were close. Too close, maybe. The kind of closeness that tiptoes near the line and then laughs and dances on it when no one's watching. A late-blooming crush turned awkward half-relationship. Things weren't always perfect. There were fights, jealousy, immature decisions.
But this time, it's different. We've barely started talking. So how does he already have that glint in his eye—the "I know something you don't" kind?
Was it just his usual personality? Or was it because he really knows something?
Either way, he just jumped straight to the top of my suspect list.
But I couldn't act rashly. If he truly remembered, he would be just as cautious as I am. And if he didn't... then I'd risk losing a genuine friend again.
I decided I would start small. Observe. Chat casually. Maybe bring up old inside jokes from the last life and see if he flinched.
This time, I'm not waiting to be discovered. I'm going to uncover the truth first.
After sorting out my thoughts, the school day ended just like that. As if my confusion and the class period had decided to wrap up together.
During evening games, something inside me finally clicked. I wasn't overthinking. I wasn't obsessing. I was just... present. And because of that, I played better than ever before. For the first time, I actually scored a goal on the basketball court. A clean, satisfying basket. The seniors who were coaching us cheered loudly, some even clapped. It was silly, but it made me feel like I belonged.
I caught a glimpse of the boys playing in the next court. Nishanth noticed me and gave me a thumbs up. That small gesture—the kind of thing he'd always done in our past life when I did something I was proud of—it made my heart do this strange little flip. Not in a romantic way. Just… warm. Like a memory surfacing through time. Encouragement from the past echoing into the present.
Back in study time, I got serious. No more distractions, no more mystery detective inside my brain. I needed to make up for all the daydreaming I had done. I opened the book I borrowed from the library—Basic FRENCH Decoding—and started reading it with actual focus. I even took notes. Not just because I had to return it, but because I want to write and keep everything I learn.
When I returned to the hostel, I wasn't walking on eggshells anymore. Since I'd cancelled my silly plan of observing every girl like a suspect, I finally allowed myself to just exist. To live. I hopped from one room to another, joining small groups of girls chatting, laughing, sharing snacks. I wasn't "the class leader" or "the mysterious quiet girl" anymore. Just Nila. A teenager in her hostel life.
And oh, the gossip. You cannot imagine the kind of spicy, silly, dramatic gossip that floats in a girls' hostel. Who has a crush on which senior. Which teacher wears the same shirt every Monday. What the cook is secretly adding to the sambar.
I laughed until my cheeks hurt.
Maybe I'll continue solving the mystery tomorrow. Tonight, I just wanted to be a normal girl with a messy braid, half-done homework, and too much to say.
And for now, that was more than enough.