Chapter 2: Ayusha couldn't sleep that night. No matter how many times she closed her eyes, the same moment kept replaying in her mind—the fall, the scream, the exact second when everything she had seen became real. It wasn't just a memory. It felt like something far deeper, something she couldn't explain no matter how hard she tried. She sat on her bed, hugging her knees, staring at the faint light coming through her window. The world outside looked peaceful, normal, completely unaware of what she had experienced. But inside her, nothing felt normal anymore.
"This can't be real…" she whispered to herself again, her voice trembling slightly.
But even as she said it, she knew she was lying to herself. She had seen it before it happened. Every detail had been the same. That wasn't imagination. That wasn't coincidence. That was something else—something she didn't understand yet.
The next morning felt heavier than usual. As Ayusha got ready for school, her movements were slower, her thoughts distracted. She kept replaying everything, trying to find a logical explanation, something that could make sense of what had happened. But every time she reached for an answer, it slipped away.
"Maybe it was just a one-time thing," she said quietly, trying to calm herself. "Maybe it won't happen again."
But deep inside—
She didn't believe that.
When she reached school, everything seemed normal again. Students were talking, laughing, walking through the corridors like nothing had happened. The girl who had fallen yesterday was absent, but aside from that, there was no sign that anything unusual had occurred.
Ayusha took a deep breath.
"See? Everything is normal," she told herself.
But the moment she stepped into her classroom—
That feeling returned.
A sudden shift.
A strange silence.
Her body stiffened.
"No…" she whispered under her breath.
Before she could react—
Everything froze again.
The same stillness.
The same unnatural quiet.
Ayusha's heart began to race as she looked around. She already knew what this was. She didn't need to guess anymore.
"It's happening again…" she said softly.
Her breathing became uneven as the scene slowly changed.
The classroom remained the same, but the atmosphere felt different—tense, heavy, like something bad was about to happen. Ayusha's eyes moved quickly across the room, searching for what would go wrong this time.
Then—
She saw it.
Near the back of the classroom, a boy was leaning back in his chair, laughing with his friends. At first, nothing seemed unusual. But then Ayusha noticed something small, something easy to miss.
The chair.
It wasn't stable.
One of its legs was slightly bent.
Her eyes widened.
"No…" she whispered.
The boy leaned back further.
The chair tilted.
And in the next moment—
It snapped.
The boy fell backward violently, hitting the ground with a loud crash.
Ayusha flinched, her heart jumping as the sound echoed in her ears.
"This is going to happen…" she realized.
And just like before—
Everything returned to normal.
The classroom came back to life, filled with noise and movement. Students were talking again, completely unaware of what Ayusha had just seen.
Her hands trembled slightly.
"It's real…" she whispered.
Her eyes moved slowly toward the back of the classroom.
And there he was.
The same boy.
Sitting exactly as she had seen in the vision.
Laughing.
Leaning back in his chair.
"No…" Ayusha said, her voice barely audible.
Her heart started pounding again.
"This is happening again…"
For a moment, she froze, unsure of what to do. Yesterday, she had reacted too late. She had tried to stop it, but it hadn't been enough.
But this time—
She knew what would happen.
And that meant—
She had a chance to stop it.
Ayusha stood up suddenly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. A few students turned to look at her, confused by her sudden movement.
"Hey—" someone started to say, but Ayusha didn't listen.
Her eyes were fixed on the boy.
"Stop leaning back!" she shouted.
The classroom fell silent for a moment as everyone looked at her in surprise.
The boy frowned slightly.
"What?" he said, confused.
"Your chair—" Ayusha began, her voice urgent.
But it was already too late.
The chair tilted.
And then—
It snapped.
The boy fell backward exactly as she had seen.
The loud crash filled the room, followed by shocked voices and sudden movement. Students rushed toward him, and the teacher quickly came forward, trying to understand what had happened.
Ayusha stood there, frozen.
Her chest felt tight.
Her breathing uneven.
"I tried…" she whispered.
"But I was still too late."
Even though she had seen it before, even though she had tried to stop it—
It still happened.
A wave of frustration and fear washed over her.
"What's the point of seeing it… if I can't change it?" she thought.
The question echoed in her mind, heavier than anything she had felt before.
As the situation slowly settled and the boy was helped up, Ayusha sat down again, her hands clenched tightly. Her mind was racing, trying to understand what was happening to her.
This wasn't just a strange experience anymore.
It was a pattern.
A cycle.
She saw something.
She tried to stop it.
And yet—
It still happened.
That evening, Ayusha sat by her window again, staring into the distance. The sky was darker tonight, the silence heavier.
"This isn't normal," she said quietly.
Her reflection stared back at her, but something about it felt… off.
For a brief moment—
She thought she saw it move.
Not her reflection.
Something behind it.
A faint flicker.
A shadow.
Ayusha's breath caught.
"What… was that?" she whispered.
She turned quickly, but there was nothing behind her.
When she looked back at the window—
Everything was normal again.
But the feeling didn't go away.
Instead—
It grew stronger.
"I'm not just seeing the future…" she realized slowly.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
"There's something else."
Something watching.
Something waiting.
Something connected to all of this.
Ayusha pulled her arms closer to herself, a chill running down her spine.
"This is just the beginning…" she said quietly.
Because now—
She wasn't just afraid of what she could see.
She was afraid of what she couldn't.