Arjun woke up with a sweet & relaxing
Sleep.
After a long while I got this type of sleep and also it's Sunday so I don't want to rush in quick for my school so , "today I show my laziness skills"he cried. .
Arjun mumering in him self lie down on bed.
What the great even today is…today my body is feeling much relaxed, it feels like a heavy weight is taken off from my head… . In school it's gone weird (refer to last ep) but at home it's better and also there is my favorite dish in dinner…
The stars in sky are bandage and the darkness is healing me from inside. I want to lost in this darkness and got vanished in day light…
*NEXT DAY
Arjun woke up with a sweet & relaxing
Sleep.
After a long while I got this type of sleep and also it's Sunday so I don't want to rush in quick for my school so , "today I show my laziness skills". He cried..
The clock showed 9:00 AM.
Arjun stretched and yawned, a lazy smile forming on his face.
"Perfect Sunday start," he mumbled to himself.
He rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes. But the moment he opened his room's door, a strange cold breeze brushed against his face. He paused.
"That's weird… windows must be open?"
But no, it wasn't just the weather. Something felt… off.
The living room was unusually silent. No clattering of dishes, no aroma of breakfast, no voice calling out, "Arjun, wake up, tea's getting cold!"
He walked in slowly, the silence pressing on his ears like thick fog.
On the dining table, a note lay under a glass paperweight. He picked it up and read:
"Had to leave early for urgent work. Back by evening.
Heat the food in the fridge.
Love, Mom."
Arjun stared at the note.
"She never leaves without telling me… and why does the house feel so… empty?"
He shook his head, trying to brush off the unease.
"Maybe I'm just overthinking. Let's enjoy the freedom," he said aloud, forcing a chuckle.
But the day had other plans.
While switching on the TV, it turned on by itself with a loud static buzz. Arjun flinched.
Later, a knock came from the back door.
Three knocks.
He opened it — no one.
The food from the fridge was warm, even though it shouldn't have been. It tasted… different. Not spoiled. Just… wrong.
"Mom never cooks like this," he whispered, pushing the plate away.
By afternoon, boredom pushed him to clean his old bookshelf. As he shifted dusty novels and half-torn comics, something slid out from behind the last row — an old notebook. Worn out. Faded.
He frowned.
"This isn't mine…"
Curious, he opened it.
Only one line was written on the first page:
"You are not alone today."
His breath caught in his throat.
He dropped the notebook. His fingers were ice-cold.
"Who wrote this? Is someone messing with me?"
Then he whispered to himself, voice low and shaky—
"What the hell is going on today?"