The house was quieter than a library after midnight, seriously, even the shadows seemed to tiptoe. Out on the street, those lamps flickered like they couldn’t quite decide if they wanted to be helpful or just annoyingly unreliable. Their light stretched across the walls, making everything inside look a little haunted, a little unreal. Inside, the Deshpande family was knocked out cold, breathing along with the hums and ticks of the night, as if even their dreams didn’t dare make a fuss.
Avyukta sat at her desk like she was glued there, spine curled, eyes half on the page and half somewhere completely else. Her notes were… well, let’s call them “abstract art.” Margins full of frantic scrawls, desperate circles around the same formulas she’d sworn she’d learn by now, and an army of crumpled pages that had given up before she had. The desk lamp was her only ally, and even it seemed to throw more shadows than light.
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