The campus woke up like nothing had happened.
Morning announcements played on time.
Students complained about assignments.
The cafeteria ran out of tea by nine.
Normal.
That was the problem.
Arav sat on the steps near the library, watching people pass. No one glanced twice at the maintenance wing. No tape. No guards. No rumor strong enough to survive daylight.
The system had done its work.
Tiku dropped beside him with a paper cup. "Good news. The college has officially decided yesterday never existed."
Arav didn't smile.
"You okay?" Tiku asked, quieter now.
Arav nodded automatically. Then stopped.
"No," he said.
Tiku didn't joke this time. He just waited.
"I made a choice," Arav continued. "And now I don't know what it costs yet."
"That's adulthood," Tiku said. "They should really put that on prospectuses."
Across the courtyard, Ira stood near the journalism notice board. She wasn't writing. She wasn't filming.
She was staring at her phone.
Arav felt it before she looked up.
Distance.
Not physical.
Deliberate.
He stood and crossed the courtyard. She didn't move to meet him.
"Ira," he said.
She slid her phone into her pocket. "They flagged my article draft."
He frowned. "You didn't publish anything."
"I didn't need to," she replied. "The metadata was enough."
She finally looked at him. "They know who I talk to."
Arav's jaw tightened. "This is because of me."
"Yes."
She didn't hesitate.
"I told you this would happen," she said. "Not because you act. Because of how you act."
He searched for words that wouldn't sound like excuses.
"I'm trying to stop people from getting hurt."
"And yesterday?" she asked.
The question hung between them.
"I didn't hesitate because I was scared," Arav said finally. "I hesitated because I was warned."
"That doesn't make it better," she said. "It makes it worse."
He absorbed that.
Around them, the campus felt slightly off — not tense, not hostile.
Attentive.
Observation Status : Persistent
Exposure level : Controlled
Arav exhaled slowly.
"I didn't agree to disappear," he said. "But I didn't agree to burn everything either."
Ira folded her arms. "So you chose the middle."
"I chose to stay."
She studied him for a long moment.
"That means they'll keep watching," she said. "And if you slip—"
"I know."
"And if I dig too deep?"
Arav didn't answer immediately.
That scared her more than denial would have.
Tiku cleared his throat awkwardly. "Okay. Just checking. Is there a version of this where none of us end up expelled, erased, or emotionally devastated?"
Neither of them laughed.
Ira turned away. "I won't stop," she said. "If something's wrong here, I'll find it."
"I know," Arav replied.
"And you won't tell me everything," she added.
"No."
She nodded, as if confirming something she'd already suspected.
"Then don't ask me to be careful for you," she said. "Ask me to be careful for myself."
She walked off before he could respond.
Arav watched her go.
The distance didn't feel like abandonment.
It felt like a line being drawn.
Behind him, Tiku shifted uneasily. "You know… I liked it better when the danger was obvious."
"So did I," Arav said.
Across campus, somewhere unseen, a report updated.
A variable remained active.
Not contained.
Not eliminated.
Observed.
And for the first time, the system didn't adjust the environment around him.
It waited.