The power had gone out.
Again.
The ceiling fan had stilled hours ago, and the Mumbai summer air was thick and restless. But Aarohi didn't complain. The darkness had a quiet kind of comfort tonight. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone glowing faintly in her hands.
Earphones in. Heart full.
On the screen, the playlist scrolled to her favorite song — one of the lesser-known tracks from SOLARIS's debut album. It wasn't the kind that charted. It wasn't made for stadiums.
But it was hers.
"Moonlight Dive."
The melody began, soft piano against the rhythm of quiet synths. Jae-min's voice emerged like a whisper wrapped in longing.
"If the stars fall, will you catch them for me?"
She closed her eyes.
In that moment, the world melted away. The unpaid bills, the missed contest, the cracked phone screen. Everything dissolved into sound.
The music wasn't just a song. It was a safe place. One she carried with her everywhere. A diary in chords. A letter from someone who didn't know her, yet somehow did.
Her lips moved in sync with the final line of the chorus — a lyric she had memorized years ago.
"I just want to protect you — even once."
The words barely left her lips before she paused.
A feeling.
Like a shift in the room. The air changed.
It was subtle — the way shadows seem to move even when you're certain they haven't. A breeze passed over her arms though the windows were shut.
A chill crawled across her spine.
She took off her earphones and listened.
Nothing.
No fans whirring. No street dogs barking. No cricket chirps. No distant autos grumbling over potholes.
Just silence.
Too complete.
She walked to the window and pulled aside the curtain.
The street was still.
The usual flickering streetlight had gone dead.
And on the far side, near the old banyan tree, a figure stood.
A shadow.
Tall. Still. Watching.
Aarohi's breath hitched.
She blinked.
The figure was gone.
She told herself it was a trick of the eye. A mix of fatigue and flickering phone light. She closed the curtain, shut her window tightly, and returned to bed.
But sleep did not come easily.
She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her heart thumping in her ears. The memory of the lyric repeated in her head.
"I just want to protect you."
Somewhere else, in another city where neon lights reflected off rain-slick roads, a different kind of silence pressed against the walls.
Jae-min sat alone in the SOLARIS dorm's media room, surrounded by music equipment and echo foam. He played the same track on loop — "Moonlight Dive."
Not because he needed to rehearse.
But because tonight, he felt a pull.
He didn't know her name.
But her words from the video replayed in his mind. Her voice. Her quiet strength. Her sincerity.
He looked out the window at the Seoul skyline and whispered:
"Who are you?"
As if the stars might answer.
But far from the glittering skyscrapers, in a small room filled with dreams and hand-drawn posters, a girl was already dreaming of him.
And in the corner of her room, just outside her window, something watched.
It did not breathe.
It did not blink.
But it listened.
And smiled.