Chapter 4

The next three days did not pass the way Zivah expected them to.

They did not feel normal.

They did not feel light.

They felt… unsettled.
And she could not explain why.

It started the very next day.

Zivah found herself standing at the entrance of the library again, her steps slower than usual, her thoughts quieter but heavier.

She told herself she was here for her project.

That she needed references.

That it was practical.

Logical.

But somewhere beneath all of that,
there was another reason.

One she didn’t say out loud.

One she didn’t even fully admit to herself.

Her feet carried her up the stairs.

Past the usual shelves.

Up to the top floor.

The same place.

The same silence.

The same sunlight falling in soft streaks across the wooden floor.

But this time,
there was no one there.

Zivah stood still for a moment, her eyes scanning the empty space as if she had expected… something.

Or someone.

Her gaze drifted to the spot near the window.

The place where Eraya had been sitting.

Reading.

Breathing life into every word.

It was empty now.

Zivah walked closer, slower than necessary, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of the chair before she sat down.

She did not take out a book.

She did not open her bag.

She just sat there.

Looking.

Waiting.

She didn’t know for what.

And that was what unsettled her the most.

The second day,

she came again.

This time earlier.

As if timing had been the issue.

As if she had simply missed her before.

But the result was the same.

Empty.

Quiet.

Unchanged.

Zivah picked up the same book that day.

The one with the notes.

She read them again.

More carefully this time.

Slower.

Letting each word settle deeper.

“You don’t stop hoping because you’re strong. You stop hoping because it hurts too much to continue.”

Her fingers lingered over the line.

Her mind immediately went back,
to honey-colored eyes.

To the way they had shut down so quickly.

To the way Eraya had pulled her hoodie over herself like something fragile needed to be hidden.

Zivah exhaled slowly.

“Where are you…” she whispered without realizing she had spoken.

The question stayed in the air.
Unanswered.

The third day,
she didn’t even pretend anymore.

She walked straight to the top floor.

Didn’t look anywhere else.

Didn’t check for any other book.

She stood there for longer than she should have.

Long enough for it to feel… strange.

Long enough for her to finally admit something to herself.

She was looking for her.

And she didn’t know why.

“Zi?”

Zivah blinked, pulled out of her thoughts as Anamika waved a hand in front of her face.

“You’ve been staring at your notebook for the past five minutes without writing anything,” Anamika said, her tone calm but observant.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on, or should I start guessing?”

Zivah leaned back slightly, exhaling.

“Nothing is going on.”

“That is a lie,” Anamika replied immediately.
“And not even a convincing one.”

Zivah hesitated.

Not because she didn’t want to tell her,
but because she didn’t know how to explain something she didn’t understand herself.

She looked down at her hands for a moment before speaking.

“Eraya hasn’t been coming to college,” she said quietly.

Anamika’s expression shifted, not surprised, but attentive.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Shivi mentioned it yesterday too. She’s been absent for three days.”

Three days.

Zivah’s chest tightened slightly.

“I went to the library,” she added, her voice slower now, more thoughtful.

“The top floor.”

Anamika didn’t interrupt.

“She wasn’t there either.”

Silence.

“And?” Anamika asked gently.

Zivah shook her head faintly.

“I don’t know. It just… feels strange.”

“Strange how?”

Zivah struggled to put it into words.

“It feels like something is off,” she said finally.

“Like something is wrong and I just… don’t know what it is.”

Anamika watched her carefully.

“You barely know her, Zi.”

“I know,” Zivah said quickly.

“I know that. That’s exactly why this doesn’t make sense.”

Her voice softened.

“I shouldn’t be thinking about this this much.”

“But you are,” Anamika said quietly.

Zivah looked at her.

“Yes.”

And there was no denying it anymore.

“STOP TOUCHING MY HAIR!”

“I am not touching your hair, I am fixing it.”

“You don’t fix someone’s hair by messing it up more, Anu!”

“Shivi, relax, it looks the same.”

“IT DOES NOT LOOK THE SAME!”

Zivah pressed her lips together, trying very hard not to smile as she adjusted her seat.

The car ride had officially turned chaotic.

Shivani was in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other trying to fix her already perfectly fine hair through the mirror.

Anamika sat beside her, entirely unbothered, occasionally reaching over just to mess it up again on purpose.

“Anu,” Zivah said, her voice calm but firm,

“if she crashes the car because of you, I will personally leave you in this village and go back alone.”

“She won’t crash,” Anamika replied easily.

“She loves me too much.”

Shivani glanced at her, deadpan. “Don’t test that.”

Anamika grinned, leaning slightly closer.

“You won’t do it.”

Shivani’s expression softened for a brief second before she looked back at the road.

“Sit properly.”

“I am sitting properly.”

“You are distracting me.”

“That’s your problem.”

Zivah let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

“You two are actually impossible,” she muttered.

“And you’re jealous,” Anamika shot back.

“I am not jealous.”

“You are.”

“I am not.”

“Zi,” Shivani cut in, smirking slightly,

“you’ve been single your entire life. Let us have this.”

Zivah leaned back, crossing her arms.

“I was happy before this conversation started.”

“Sure you were,” Anamika teased.

Zivah looked out the window, but the faint smile on her face didn’t leave.

The village came into view slowly.

Green fields stretching out, small houses scattered across the land, the air noticeably different, cleaner, quieter.
Zivah’s gaze softened slightly as she took it in.

“This is… nice,” she murmured.

“It’s peaceful,” Anamika added.

“Too peaceful,” Shivani said. “I need noise.”

“You are the noise,” Zivah replied.

“Welcome.”
The voice came before the man fully stepped into view.

Zivah turned, straightening slightly as Thakur Sahab approached them with slow, measured steps.

There was nothing hurried about him.

Every movement felt deliberate, controlled, like he was used to being listened to without needing to raise his voice.

He stopped at a careful distance, his gaze settling first on Zivah… then shifting briefly toward Anamika and Shivani.

Not curious.

Not warm.

Assessing.

“You must be Zivah,” he said, his tone steady, almost formal.

“Daughter of Mr. Varma.”

Zivah nodded politely.

“Yes. It’s nice to meet you.”

He gave a slight nod in return, but the gesture felt more like acknowledgment than greeting.

“I was told you are studying agriculture.”

“I am,” she replied.

“And I’ve been looking forward to seeing the land.”

A pause.

His eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing something.

“Hmm,” he murmured.

“Young… but confident.”

The way he said it didn’t sound like praise.

It sounded like doubt wrapped in
politeness.

Zivah caught it.

She didn’t react.

“These are my friends,” she added calmly, gesturing toward them.

“Anamika and Shivani.”

Thakur Sahab glanced at them again, this time slightly longer.

“Friends,” he repeated, almost thoughtfully.

“You bring them along for work matters?”

There it was.

Subtle.

But clear.

Anamika raised a brow slightly, but Zivah answered before she could.

“They’re here because we had holidays,”

she said, her tone still respectful but firmer now.

“And this is also a visit, not just work.”

Another pause.

This time, longer.

Then he nodded once.

“As you wish.”

His gaze moved away, dismissing the matter entirely.

“You will stay in the guest house,” he continued.

“It has been prepared. Food will be sent. Rest tonight. Tomorrow morning, we will inspect the land.”

He turned slightly, then added,

“And yes… there is a wedding in the haveli tomorrow evening.”

His expression shifted just slightly.

Not softer.

But… satisfied.

“My relative’s daughter,” he said.

“A fortunate match. The family has done well.”

Something about the way he said fortunate felt strange.

Measured.

Transactional.

“If you are free,” he continued, looking back at Zivah,

“you should attend. It is good to witness such occasions in a village.
Teaches you… how things are meant to be done.”

The words lingered.

How things are meant to be done.

Zivah nodded politely.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gave a final nod.

Then left.

And the moment he did,
the air felt lighter.

Shivani let out a breath.

“Okay… why did that feel like an interview?”

Anamika crossed her arms.

“Not an interview. A judgment.”

Zivah didn’t speak immediately.

She was still watching the direction he had walked in.

“There’s something off,” she said quietly

That night,
sleep did not come easily.

Zivah lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts drifting again.

To the library.

To the notes.

To Eraya.

She turned to her side.

Closed her eyes.

Opened them again.

A quiet sigh escaped her.

“This is ridiculous,” she whispered to herself.

She got up.

Stepped outside.

The night air was cool, carrying a soft
stillness with it.

She walked slowly, without direction.

Until,
she saw it.

A lake.

And beside it,

a figure.

Sitting.

Still.

Zivah’s steps slowed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Something about the posture,
the stillness,
felt familiar.

Her heart skipped slightly.

“Eraya…?”

She moved a step forward.

Then,

“Eraya!”

The voice cut through the quiet.

A woman’s voice.

Older. Probably in her late twenties.

Calling her.

The girl by the lake stood immediately.

Turned.

And in that brief moment,

Zivah saw her face clearly.

It was her.

No doubt.

Eraya.

She walked toward the woman without looking back.

And Zivah stood there.

Still.

Her mind racing quietly.

“She lives here…” she whispered.
And suddenly,
everything felt connected.
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