People often believed theatre students lived beautifully chaotic lives.

Late rehearsals.

Dramatic personalities.

Laughter echoing through corridors.

Stage lights.

Applause.

Passion.

Dreams.

People only noticed what happened beneath bright lights.

Nobody noticed what happened behind curtains.

Nobody noticed trembling hands before performances.

Nobody noticed exhaustion hidden beneath smiles.

Nobody noticed hearts quietly breaking while voices confidently delivered dialogues.

Theatre demanded truth.

And truth-

wasn't always beautiful.

Morning sunlight spread warmly across the college campus.

Students moved toward classrooms carrying unfinished assignments and half-awake expressions.

The theatre building stood tall at the far corner.

Old.

Familiar.

Alive.

Its walls carried years of performances.

Stories.

Failures.

Dreams.

And somewhere inside-

Another story quietly continued.

Krishni mathur adjusted the files clutched against her chest while walking quickly through crowded corridors.

Late.

Again.

Wonderful.

"Krishni!"

She immediately stopped.

Too late.

Her professor stood near the theatre hall entrance.

Professor Arvind.

Strict.

Respected.

Terrifying.

"Good morning sir," she said carefully.

"Is it?"

"Sir-"

"Workshop begins at nine."

"I know."

"Time?"

"Nine ten."

"Interesting."

"I am very sorry-"

"Inside."

"Thank you sir."

"Don't thank me."

She practically ran.

The theatre hall buzzed with movement.

Students carrying props.

People discussing scripts.

Arguments over lighting.

Someone practicing emotional dialogue dramatically in one corner.

Someone forgetting lines.

Normal.

Chaos.

Home.

"Look who finally arrived."

Ridhi.

Of course.

Krishni dropped her bag dramatically.

"I almost died."

"You say that every morning."

"Because every morning tests my survival instincts."

"You were late."

"Thank you for informing me."

"I provide valuable information."

"You provide stress."

"I provide friendship."

"Worse."

Ridhi gasped dramatically.

"Betrayal."

Krishni smiled softly.

Small.

Natural.

Real.

Few people noticed it-

but she smiled differently around comfort.

The professor entered.

Instant silence.

"Today," he announced calmly, "you will prepare emotional scene work."

Collective groaning immediately filled the room.

"Sir please-"

"No sir please."

"Sir mercy-"

"No mercy."

"Sir-"

"Five minutes."

Everyone immediately scattered.

Krishni quietly picked up her script.

Emotional performance.

Wonderful.

Exactly what she needed.

"Krishni."

She looked up.

Professor Arvind stood beside her.

"You're directing group three."

Her eyes widened.

"Sir-"

"No excuses."

"I don't think-"

"That's exactly why you should."

"I'll ruin it."

"You won't."

"What if-"

"Krishni."

She stopped speaking.

"You think too much."

Her fingers slowly tightened around the script.

Maybe.

Maybe she did.

Too much.

Too deeply.

Too constantly.

I hated leading.

Not because I couldn't.

Because people expected things when you led.

Confidence.

Control.

Perfection.

Things I didn't always have.

"Okay everyone-"

Nobody listened.

Amazing.

"Guys-"

Still nothing.

Wonderful.

"CAN EVERYONE PLEASE FOCUS?"

Silence.

Ridhi slowly looked toward me.

"Oh."

Someone whispered quietly-

"Scary."

"I am not scary."

"You are when stressed."

"I am perfectly calm."

"You look like you're planning murder."

"I hate all of you."

"Leader energy."

I sighed deeply.

Krishn.

Patience.

Please.

The rehearsal slowly began.

Our scene involved emotional conflict.

Miscommunication.

Pain.

Regret.

Classic theatre suffering.

"More emotion," I said quietly.

"Pause before dialogue."

"Look at her when speaking."

"No don't rush."

"Again."

"Again."

"Again."

Hours passed.

The strange thing about theatre-

people thought acting meant pretending.

It didn't.

Acting meant remembering.

Feeling.

Opening wounds quietly.

Borrowing emotions.

Sometimes-

you accidentally touched feelings you weren't prepared for.

And today-

everything felt heavier.

"Krishni."

"Hm?"

"You okay?"

Ridhi stood beside me.

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"You're biting your lip."

"I do not-"

"You do."

I sighed.

"I have assignments."

"Okay."

"Project deadlines."

"Okay."

"Performance pressure."

"Okay."

"And-"

"And?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

Maybe.

Maybe I was.

The truth?

Lately-

everything felt harder.

Everyone around me looked stronger.

More talented.

More confident.

More certain.

And then-

there was me.

Always doubting.

Always thinking.

Always wondering-

Am I enough?

I hated that thought.

Hated it.

But insecurities don't disappear because you dislike them.

They stay.

Quiet.

Persistent.

Patient.

Waiting.

The workshop ended near evening.

Exhaustion settled deeply inside my bones.

The campus slowly emptied.

Golden sunlight painted buildings softly.

Wind moved quietly through trees.

I walked alone.

Bag hanging loosely from my shoulder.

Mind heavier than usual.

Stress.

Deadlines.

Dreams.

Questions.

The lotus marks.

That flute.

Everything.

My fingers unconsciously touched my palm.

Warm.

Always warm.

Strange.

My phone buzzed.

Maa.

"Beta where are you?"

"Leaving college."

"Eat something."

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Take care."

"Hm."

The call ended.

I slowly continued walking.

Then-

it happened.

Again.

The flute.

Soft.

Distant.

Beautiful.

My footsteps froze.

No.

Not here.

Not now.

Wind moved gently.

Leaves rustled.

Students walked normally.

Nobody reacted.

Nobody heard it.

Only me.

The melody felt familiar.

Painfully familiar.

Pulling.

Calling.

My heartbeat slowly quickened.

I turned.

Nothing.

Empty pathway.

Silent evening.

Then why-

Why did it feel-

like someone stood there?

Watching.

Waiting.

My eyes slowly shifted.

Near the far corner-

beside the old banyan tree-

stood someone.

White kurta.

Still.

Motionless.

I couldn't see clearly.

Too far.

Wind moved softly.

My heartbeat grew louder.

Strange.

Why did this feel-

important?

Then-

someone crossed in front.

Only one second.

One moment.

And when my eyes lifted again-

the person was gone.

Completely gone.

Cold unease spread quietly through me.

No.

Impossible.

Maybe stress.

Maybe exhaustion.

Maybe imagination.

"Krishni!"

I jumped.

Ridhi.

Again.

"You scared me!"

"You look scared already."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"I'm literally not."

"You disappear somewhere lately."

"I don't."

"You do."

I looked away.

Because maybe-

I did.

That night-

sleep arrived slowly.

Too many thoughts.

Too much noise inside my mind.

The room remained dark.

Silent.

Peaceful.

Eventually-

sleep found me.

And then-

the dream returned.

Again.

Only-

different.

Clearer.

Moonlight reflected softly across flowing river water.

Ancient temple bells echoed.

Flowers floated quietly downstream.

Wind carried sandalwood fragrance.

And the flute-

closer.

Closer than before.

My feet slowly moved.

Stone pathways stretched ahead.

Golden lamps glowed softly.

My heartbeat quickened.

Someone stood there.

Waiting.

Dark blue fabric moved softly beneath moonlight.

Peacock feather.

A silhouette.

Familiar.

Impossible.

My breath slowly stopped.

No.

No-

This couldn't-

The figure slowly turned-

And suddenly-

I woke.

2:47 AM.

Breathing uneven.

Heart racing violently.

Tears rested quietly in my eyes.

I slowly sat up.

Confused.

Shaken.

Afraid.

My fingers tightened around bedsheets.

Who-

Who was that?

And why-

did my heart ache-

like it already knew?

Outside-

very softly-

the wind moved.

And somewhere hidden inside darkness-

something ancient quietly waited.

For her.

My outfit

Thanks

Gaura 🧿

Hope u all like the chapter