The door to Dr. Rafiq's office was slightly ajar.
Ayan and Zara stood side by side outside.
Zara checked her watch, glanced at the door, and then looked at Ayan.
"Are you sure you want to go in?" she whispered. "I can talk to him alone if you want."
"No," Ayan said. "I'm going."
Zara paused for a moment. "Look, Professor Rafiq is a good man. He wants to help you. But if you bring up that notebook"
"I won't."
"Good." Zara nodded. "Let's go then."
The office was small. Bookshelves lined three walls, and an old wooden table sat in the center. A candle was burning on the table despite the electricity being on.
Professor Rafiq gestured toward two chairs. "Sit down, both of you."
Zara sat. Ayan followed suit.
Professor Rafiq looked at Ayan. His gaze was warm but to Ayan, there seemed to be something beneath that warmth. An intensity. An observation.
"Ayan, have you eaten anything today?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you sleeping well?"
"Yes."
"Has anyone in your family ever" Rafiq paused briefly "seen strange things due to mental stress?"
Beside him, Zara straightened up. "Sir, Ayan isn't mentally ill. He is reporting an incident that might have a logical explanation."
Rafiq smiled faintly. "Of course. That is exactly what I am looking for, Zara."
He pulled a notebook from his drawer and picked up a pen.
"Ayan, you mentioned a boy named Arif who disappeared. Was he a close friend of yours?"
Ayan thought for a moment. "No. We spoke occasionally. But we weren't close."
"Then why is it that only you can remember him?"
Ayan wasn't prepared for that question. He remained silent.
Rafiq scribbled something in his notes. "Alright. You should get some rest. And Zara" he looked at her "can you keep an eye on him?"
"Of course, sir." Zara stood up.
Ayan began to rise as well.
That's when his eyes fell on the photo frame at the corner of the table.
A black-and-white photo. A boy standing in front of the St. Jude College gate. He was smiling.
The face was familiar.
It looked exactly like Arif.
Ayan leaned in slightly.
Rafiq immediately stood up and, with practiced ease, picked up the frame and placed it inside the drawer.
"An old photo," he said. His voice didn't tremble.
Zara noticed nothing; she was facing the door, packing her bag.
Only Ayan saw.
And Rafiq knew that Ayan had seen it.
Their eyes locked for a single second.
Rafiq smiled. A perfectly normal smile.
"You two may go."
As soon as they left the office, Zara said, "See? He's very sympathetic. It would have been better if you'd opened up a bit more."
Ayan didn't mention what he had seen.
He knew Zara would immediately offer an explanation. Old photos make people look similar, shadows play tricks on faces something like that.
And maybe Zara would be right.
Maybe.
On the way back to the hostel that evening, Ayan's phone rang.
The screen read: Dad.
He stopped. Took a breath. Answered.
"Yes, Dad—"
"What on earth are you doing?"
The voice was sharp with anger. That familiar anger.
"Nothing, Dad, I--"
"Your professor called me." His father's voice was a mix of exhaustion and irritation. "He said you're acting crazy in class. Talking about some boy who doesn't exist. Your mother is crying."
"Dad, I'm fine"
"If you were fine, I wouldn't be hearing this. Listen, I don't want to take you to a doctor. Sort yourself out. But if I get another call from the professor"
He paused.
"I'm bringing you home. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Dad."
The call ended.
Ayan leaned against the wall.
He could have said Dad, something is actually happening. He could have said Believe me.
But he knew what would happen. His father would come. He'd be taken home. And whatever was happening would continue just without Ayan.
Back in the hostel room, Tasin looked up.
"Hey, I heard you saw a ghost in class today?"
Shanto was muffled in his pillow, laughing.
Tasin added, "Remember that kid? The 'Ghost Boy'?"
Ayan set his bag down. "Are you guys done?"
"Hey, don't get mad." Tasin grinned. "Seriously though, what happened? Did you actually see someone?"
Ayan sat on his bed. "No. I was mistaken."
"Mistaken?" Shanto lifted his head from the pillow. "But you even asked Raiyan; he said you were practically dragging him by the arm. You looked dead serious."
"I told you, it was a mistake."
Tasin and Shanto shared another laugh before diving back into their phones.
To them, it was nothing more than a story.
Ayan stared at the ceiling.
The laughter stung, but it was the reality to everyone else, he wasn't crazy; he was just today's entertainment.
By tomorrow, everyone would likely forget.
But then again, everyone had already forgotten Arif.
Midnight.
Tasin and Shanto were fast asleep.
Ayan was still awake.
Suddenly, he felt his bag twitch.
Slowly.
He sat up and opened the bag.
The notebook seemed to want to come out on its own.
Ayan tried to hold it down with his hand.
He couldn't.
The notebook fell open.
On the white page, letters began to emerge in a deep, dark red.
"You already know the name of the second sacrifice."
Ayan grit his teeth.
He had been thinking about exactly this for the last three hours.
The next line appeared:
"He will be gone before the sun rises. Will you stop it?"
Ayan stood up. Put on his shoes.
The hostel corridor felt different at night.
What seemed narrow during the day felt suffocatingly tight now. Half the tube lights were out only one in every three flickered. It created a strange rhythm of light and shadow.
Ayan walked.
And then he stopped.
On the right-hand wall bloody fingerprints.
One, two, three one after another, leading straight ahead.
Toward the library.
Ayan reached out and touched a print.
It was wet.
He pulled his hand back. His finger was stained red.
He quickened his pace, following the prints.
At the end of the corridor, the prints stopped at the wall.
There was a name written there.
Scrawled in blood.
"RAIYAN."
Ayan's feet froze.
Only one question raced through his mind
Was Raiyan still in his room?
Or was it already too late?