By the time math began, the air in the classroom felt like soup. The windows were open, but the rain had left a stickiness that clung to everything — desks, shirts, even the chalk smell.
Dev sat near the window, half-listening to the teacher scrawl numbers across the board. His pencil moved on instinct. Addition, subtraction, something about speed and distance. The fan above him gave a tired groan every few turns, like it wanted to stop but didn't dare.
Then the chalk snapped.
A sharp click, and a small white piece bounced onto the floor. It didn't roll. It just… stopped.Not like it lost momentum — like the idea of momentum itself had paused.
The teacher kept talking, but the sound came a little late. Each word lagged, arriving just behind his moving lips. The ceiling fans wobbled in their frames. A drop of sweat rolled down the teacher's neck and seemed to hesitate mid-descent.
Dev held his breath.The air felt thick, elastic. The edges of everything shimmered faintly, as though the room were made of glass.
And then — it was gone.
The fan spun normally again. The chalk lay in a different spot. His classmates laughed at something. The teacher was still writing.
Dev blinked hard and looked at his notebook.The last line of numbers stared back at him — twice. Identical. Same slanted handwriting, same faint smear of graphite. He ran a finger over the page; it didn't make sense. He hadn't copied it. He knew he hadn't.
"Sir?" he said quietly.
The teacher glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"
Dev hesitated. "Nothing."
The class chuckled. He dropped his eyes, pretending to be embarrassed. But when he looked up again, Meera was watching him from the back row, eyebrows drawn together.
When the bell rang, she caught up with him in the corridor. "Mine did it too."
"What did?"
She opened her notebook — two of the same lines, side by side. "Whatever that was. It happened right when you looked up."
Dev stared at the page, then at her. "Maybe we both messed up."
"Or maybe," she said softly, "time did."
Before he could reply, the recess bell rang — once, then again.Two identical sounds, one heartbeat apart.