It had been three years since Aarav stepped foot on the bustling college campus, away from the familiar comfort of his home.
He was now in his third year, juggling studies, friendships, and the occasional stress that came with the grind.
College life had become routine—filled with late-night study sessions, laughter with friends, and moments of carefree ease.
It felt like everything was falling into place.
Aarav strolled through the bustling college campus, laughing with his friends. Life was easy, routine, and carefree.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated weakly in his pocket. Pulling it out, he frowned at the flickering screen.
"Not again," he muttered, annoyed.
Later that evening, he handed the phone over to the repair shop.
"It'll take about four days to fix," the technician informed him.
"Four days? Fine," Aarav sighed, reluctant but resigned.
That night, he wrote a letter to his parents,
"Dear Mom and Dad, my phone is acting up again, and it's in for repair. I won't be reachable for the next 4-5 days, so don't worry if you can't contact me.
I'll call you as soon as I get it back. Hope you're doing well!"
The next few days passed in blissful normalcy. Classes, late-night study sessions, and endless jokes with friends—everything seemed perfect.
Aarav occasionally thought of his parents, wondering how they were doing, but he reassured himself.
"They've read my letter. They'll understand."
Finally, Aarav picked up his repaired phone. As soon as he powered it on, a flood of notifications hit the screen.
Missed Calls:
Uncle: 36 missed calls.
Mom: 31 missed calls.
Dad: 7 missed calls.
Aarav's heart raced as he scrolled through the log, stopping when he saw the last message from his father.
Dad (4 days ago): "Son, are you okay? Please call me soon."
Taking a deep breath, Aarav tried to calm himself. "They probably just missed me.
Those calls are normal—they're just worried because of the letter."
He dialed his father's number first.
The phone rang twice before a robotic voice announced:
"The number you are trying to reach is currently switched off."
Aarav frowned. "Dad must be busy. He'll call back soon."
Next, he tried his mother. This time, the phone rang endlessly with no answer.
His pulse quickened. Every unanswered ring felt heavier, like a growing storm in his chest.
"Mom never leaves her phone unanswered," he whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
Desperate now, Aarav called his uncle. The phone barely rang once before it was picked up.
"Aarav! Where have you been?" his uncle's voice was sharp, filled with anger and urgency.
"Uncle, I—my phone was damaged," Aarav stammered, but his uncle cut him off.
"Damaged? Damaged?! Do you even know what's happening here?"
The phone slipped from Aarav's trembling hand, landing on the table with a soft thud.
His uncle's words echoed in his ears:
His vision blurred, and his breath quickened. Aarav's world, so normal just moments ago, now teetered on the edge of chaos.