The line went dead.
Trisha stared at the phone, her thumb frozen midair.
For a second, she forgot how to breathe.
Aaruhi's voice still echoed in her ears—weak, fractured.
Please... come.
I have to go. Now.
Her hands moved on instinct. She unlocked her phone, opened a cab-booking app. Her pickup location appeared instantly. Her fingers hovered over the destination field—
and stopped.
The screen stared back at her.
Blank.
Her pulse spiked.
She didn't know where Aaruhi was.
The realization slammed into her chest. Three days without contact. No address. No hint. And now—nothing to run toward.
Think. Don't panic. Think.
She exited the app and called back.
The line didn't ring.
Instead, a recorded voice filled her ear—
"The number you are trying to call is currently switched off. Please try again later."
Her stomach dropped.
"No," she whispered. "No—"
She tried again.
The same voice.
Again.
Nothing changed.
Aaruhi's phone was dead.
A hollow fear spread through her chest, cold and heavy. Aaruhi never let her phone die. Not when she lived alone. Not when she hadn't been heard from for three days. Not after sounding like she was barely holding on.
This isn't coincidence.
This is something going wrong in real time.
Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts and stopped at one name.
Neil.
She hit call.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Pick up.
Please.
She paced the room, every second stretching painfully long. Her mind filled the silence with images she refused to name—Aaruhi alone, unable to move, waiting.
The call went unanswered.
Her breathing turned shallow.
What if that call was the last strength she had?
What if I'm already late?
She tried again.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Just as panic threatened to pull her under, the line connected.
"Trisha?" Neil's voice came through, distracted. Keys clicked in the background. "It's late. What's wrong?"
Relief hit her so fast her knees nearly buckled.
"I need you," she said, skipping everything else. "Aaruhi's missing. Three days. Her phone just switched off. I spoke to her minutes ago—she sounded like she couldn't breathe."
The typing stopped.
That silence scared her more than panic ever had.
"Send me her details," Neil said finally. "Everything you have. But if her phone's dead—this won't be quick."
"I don't care," Trisha said. "Just don't stop."
She sent the details, then dialed another number.
"Rhea," she said the second the call connected. "I found Aaruhi."
"Where?" Rhea asked sharply.
"Not yet. Her phone's off. Neil's tracing her offline footprint. Something's wrong."
No hesitation. "I'm calling Aarav and Kabir. Keep me updated. Every minute."
The call ended.
Trisha sank onto the edge of her bed, fingers digging into the fabric. Waiting had never felt this cruel.
Aaruhi asked for help.
And then she disappeared.
Her phone buzzed.
"I've got something," Neil said, his voice tight. "Not a live location. I'm working backward—cloud access, old Wi-Fi logs, building networks. Someone was careful."
"How careful?" Trisha asked.
"Careful enough to make her vanish digitally."
Her throat went dry.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
Finally—
"I found something."
Trisha froze.
"Where?"
"Not a live location. A trace. Three days old. Bloomsbury. Block Fifty-Eight, Street Thirteen. After that—nothing. Her footprint was wiped."
Her blood turned cold.
"Neil," she said quickly, fear breaking through, "send that to Rhea too. If anything happens—I need them there."
"I'm looping her in," he said. "Stay on the call."
"I'm going," Trisha said, already grabbing her keys.
The building stood quietly beneath a pale afternoon sky, unaware of the fear tightening in Trisha's chest.
She stood outside the flat, staring at the locked door, her pulse hammering hard enough to make her dizzy. This was it—the last place Aaruhi had existed.
Her phone buzzed.
She ignored it.
There was no time. Every second wasted felt like betrayal.
She rang the bell.
Once.
Twice.
No answer.
Her chest tightened. She knocked harder.
Still nothing.
She turned to the neighboring flat. A woman answered, hesitation giving way to concern when Trisha said Aaruhi's name.
"I haven't seen her in days," the woman said slowly. "Is something wrong?"
Trisha didn't answer. "Do you have the landlord's number?"
The woman nodded, already reaching for her phone.
Minutes later, Trisha paced the corridor, phone pressed hard to her ear.
Once.
Twice.
"Hello?" a woman answered.
"My friend Aaruhi Shekhawat lives in Block Fifty-Eight, Street Thirteen," Trisha said, forcing steadiness. "Flat 3B. She's not answering. The neighbors haven't seen her in days. I'm outside her door. Please—can you bring the spare keys?"
A brief pause.
"I'm on my way," the landlord said. "Ten minutes."
"Please hurry."
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Rhea appeared first, breath shallow, eyes locking onto Trisha's face. Kabir followed. Then Aarav. Grim. Silent.
The landlord arrived moments later, keys clutched tight.
"This is the flat?"
Trisha nodded.
The key slid into the lock.
Turned.
The door opened.
Silence spilled out.
Heavy.
Stale.
Wrong.
Trisha stepped inside first.
Her eyes swept the flat.
Nothing broken.
Nothing disturbed.
And somehow, that made it worse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for reading 🤍
This chapter sets the ground for what's coming. The silence, the fear, the waiting—it all has meaning. Stay with the story, because answers won't come easily, and some will hurt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
💭 Why was Aaruhi's digital trail wiped so clean—and who wanted her to disappear without a trace?
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