Antak's house felt different at night now.
It felt tighter. Like the walls were listening.
Dinner ended. Plates stacked neatly. The table wiped clean. His parents moved with practiced efficiency, speaking less than usual. His mother reminded him to drink water. His father asked about school without really waiting for the answer.
Then his parents told him to go to his room.
That part stayed with him.
Earlier, they used to ask if he was sleepy. Now they had already decided he was.
Antak lay on his bed with the lights off, his phone face down beside him. Outside his window, the sky wasn't visible at all, buried under the same thick grey haze. The building hummed softly—air circulation, temperature control, power systems. Sounds he'd grown up with.
Tonight, he stayed awake.
Time passed strangely. Minutes stretched, then slipped away.
Footsteps.
Slow. Careful.
Antak didn't move. He controlled his breathing—steady, shallow, convincing. The door opened slightly. Light spilled in from the hallway.
His mother stood there.
She didn't say his name. Didn't step inside. She just looked at him for a few seconds, long enough to make his skin prickle. Then she gently closed the door.
Antak opened his eyes.
His heart beat faster—not from fear, but from confirmation.
He waited.
More footsteps. Two sets this time. Low voices. He couldn't hear the words, but the tone was clear.
He sat up and checked the time.
11:47 PM.
Too early for this kind of quiet.
Antak slipped out of bed and moved toward the door, careful not to let it creak. The house lights were dimmed to night mode, thin white strips glowing along the floor.
His parents were in the kitchen.
He stayed just far enough away to see them through the gap near the storage unit.
His father stood near the counter, holding a small, flat container Antak had seen before. Smooth metal. He recognized it immediately—the container the government had been providing due to food shortages.
During the day, the food was saved, preserved, regulated by his parents.
Now, he watched his father throw it away.
The sight shook him.
Food wasn't wasted anymore. Not like this. Not ever.
Still, Antak said nothing.
His mother scrolled through something on her tablet. A list, maybe. She paused, then nodded.
"Five months," his father said quietly.
His mother hesitated. "Are we sure?"
A pause.
Then, "We don't have a choice."
Something cold settled in Antak's chest.
"They can't know yet," his mother said.
"They won't," his father replied. "Not until it's done."
Antak stepped back before they could turn. He returned to his room and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.
His phone buzzed softly.
Nivyan: You awake?
Antak stared at the screen, then typed back.
Antak: Yeah.
A pause.
Nivyan: My parents checked if I was actually asleep And they're throwing away the freshly arrived food.
Antak's fingers tightened around the phone.
Antak: Same kind of night here.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then—
Nivyan: I think we were right. Something's moving.
Antak lay back and stared at the ceiling. The lights slowly shifted, simulating drifting clouds. Calm. Reassuring.
He should've stayed in bed.
That was the safe choice.
Instead, he picked up his phone again.
Antak: My parents just left. Together.
This time, the replies didn't come instantly.
Rishan: Left… as in now?
Antak: Just now.
Mahive: Same here. They didn't even pretend this time.
Vanshit: Direction?
Antak hesitated before typing.
Antak: Toward the outer blocks. Old side.
A longer pause followed.
Sushren: That's not normal.
Rishan: This is risky.
Mahive: Yeah. Which is exactly why I don't like staying home right now.
Another message appeared.
Vanshit: We don't get close We observe. If anything feels off, we pull back.
A moment passed.
Nivyan: Agreed.
Antak stared at the screen, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
This was reckless.
This was dangerous.
He typed one last message.
Antak: Masks, Hoods, Distance and Follow No confrontations.
One by one, everyone agreed.
Antak waited another full minute, listening to his heartbeat slow.
Then he stood up and pulled his mask over his face.
Outside, he spotted his parents at the cable car station. The car arrived every ten minutes. They weren't alone.
Every one of their parents was there.
As Antak was watching, a tap landed on his back. He turned to see his friends standing behind him.
"Look," Antak whispered. "At the cable station. All of our parents are there. They're waiting for the cart to the seaside."
Nivyan hesitated. "Are we really sure about this? If our parents find out, we'll be punished."
Mahive scoffed. "Kid, if we want to know what our parents are up to, we take the risk. Or you can always go home and sleep."
Nivyan shot back, "First of all, I'm not a kid."
Mahive muttered, "Your height says otherwise."
Nivyan ignored him. "And second, I'm not scared. I also want to know too."
The others weren't interested in the argument. Their attention stayed locked on their parents.
"Guys," Antak said quietly, "the cart is here. They're boarding. If we wait too long, we won't know where they get off."
Aarish spoke up. "About that, I planted a tracker. Built it myself. It's in my mother's bag."
Vanshit glanced at him. "Well. That helps."
Antak nodded. "Then let's move."
They boarded the next cart.
When it stopped, they got off at the same station and followed the tracker's signal.
The city thinned as they moved farther out. Lights grew scarce. Buildings older. The air carried a faint, salty weight.
The sea.
Antak slowed when he saw it.
The godown.
A massive structure at the edge of the water, dark and silent with a massive door towards the sea
Their parents approached the smaller door at the front.
The door opened.
They went inside.
The door closed.
Antak stayed still.
Suddenly antak heard a movement.
A sound behind him.
but it was Not the wind.
Antak's breath stalled.
He turned just enough to catch movement near the broken concrete. Shapes. Still. Watching the same place he was.
Too close.
He couldn't make them out.
Could've been workers.
Could've been one of the parents.
Could've been someone else entirely.
No one spoke.
The godown remained silent. The sea crashed below, loud enough to drown thought, but not fear.
Antak didn't move.
Whatever was happening inside that building wasn't meant to be seen.
And whoever stood behind him had been there long before he noticed.
The realization settled heavy in his chest.
He wasn't alone.
And the moment he turned fully around
everything was about to change.