Arora entered her room with a heaviness that didn't belong to the hour. The lights were dim, her coat still damp from the night air, her hair sticking slightly to her temples.
Sleep felt impossible.
She dropped onto the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees. Her mind ran in circles—tight, suffocating circles. Kelvin's condition. Jack's strange codes. The unknown caller. Jennie missing.
Everything tangled into one suffocating knot inside her chest.
She stood abruptly.
Sitting still wasn't an option.
Not tonight.
She went to the shelf, pulled out a thick black notebook and her pen — her old habit, her only anchor. Whenever her head became too loud, she wrote. Not because writing solved everything, but because seeing it on paper made the chaos feel conquerable.
She flipped the notebook open, scribbling fast, almost carving the words into the page.
First pressing matters:
— Kelvin
— Unknown caller
— Jennie.
She underlined each name twice.
