Riya Sharma woke to sunlight dancing through floral curtains and the scent of coffee tangled with her mother's shouts. A normal morning—until she noticed the glowing numbers on her wrist.
00:58
Not her Apple Watch. Not anything she'd ever worn. The digits pulsed softly, like a heartbeat. Mechanical. Cold. Alive.
"Great. Glitchy fitness band or some scam bracelet?" she muttered, flipping her hair and opening Instagram by habit. She looked flawless, even half-asleep. A quick selfie. Perfect pout. Posted:
Morning mood 💋☀️ #WokeUpLikeThis #Blessed.
Likes rolled in.
00:57… 00:56… 00:55
The timer dimmed. Her breath caught.
Then—
"RIYA! Your brother's eating chocolate on the couch again!"
A Nutella-smeared boy tore into her room, screaming, "GRENADE INCOMING!" and leapt on her.
She shrieked, tackled him, and laughed. No filter. No pose.
The timer pulsed.
00:53 → 01:00
She froze.
Not in fear. In something deeper.
Truth.
---
Aman Verma's room was a cricket shrine. Posters of legends stared down as he slept, clutching his bat. He woke groggy, blinking at a glow on his wrist.
00:41
"What now?" he groaned.
The countdown ticked steadily.
Then: "Aman! Tu phir se Hindi ki copy bhool gaya?!"
He sighed at the untouched homework. The ticking grew louder in his mind.
00:38… 00:35
He reached for his bat. Swung.
Crack.
That clean, swooshing sound filled him with joy.
00:35 → 01:00
He grinned.
Screw Hindi.
---
Priya Singh was always early. Her room pristine. Her laptop open to a ranking of medical colleges. She didn't notice the glow on her wrist until she slipped on her blazer.
00:59
No panic. Priya didn't panic.
Probably some new health tracker. Her mom entered, papers in hand.
"This college likes Olympiad winners! Apply soon!"
Priya smiled—tight, practiced.
00:58… 00:56… 00:53
She looked up. "Maybe I don't want to be a damn doctor."
It wasn't loud. But it was real.
00:53 → 01:00
Her mother stared.
So did Priya.
---
Rahul Yadav was late. Again. He barely noticed the blinking timer on his arm.
00:16
He smelled parathas. Grabbed two. Chewed fast.
00:12… 00:08
Bus was almost gone. But then—kachoris near the gate. He stopped, eyes wide.
00:05… 00:04…
He vaulted a railing, dodged a scooter, bought one, and took a bite.
Heaven.
00:01 → 01:00
Worth it.
---
Neha Patel stood in the middle of chaos.
Screams. Gasps. A boy vanished when his timer hit 00:03. No sound. No flash. One second there, the next—nothing.
And no one remembered him.
Neha had watched. She tried to recall his name. Nothing came. He was... gone.
She shouted, "Everyone CALM DOWN! We need to think. What's triggering this?"
Someone's timer blinked near zero. "Say something real!" someone cried.
"I cheated on the physics test!" a girl blurted.
00:02 → 01:00
The crowd gasped. Neha snorted.
"Guess honesty actually does keep you alive."
Her own timer pulsed upward.
00:53 → 01:00
---
At Vishwakarma High, a new rule had arrived.
No warning. No explanation. Just time.
Be real, or be gone.
Adults didn't see the timers. Only students. And those who hit zero—disappeared, erased from memory.
Riya stared at her phone, thinking of every fake post she'd made. Aman clutched his bat like it held his truth. Priya wondered what she wanted, not what she'd been told. Rahul licked chili from his fingers, more certain about food than future. And Neha kept laughing—not from joy, but because it was the only real thing she trusted.
But beneath it all pulsed one terrifying question:
What if you don't know who you truly are?
They would have to find out.
Together.
Before the clock ran out.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until only truth remained.
Or no one did.