Wind howled through the metal veins of the roller coaster, carrying the hum of the machine which came back to life.

  Below, Rishabh stood with a twisted ankle, taking a hand of support from Kritika.

  His shirt was drenched in sweat, his trembling fingers hovered in the air like there was a board right in front of his eyes.

  His calculations didn't work, but not did he stop.

  He muttered, tracing invisible paths, but his lips barely moved. Even his mind was not steady amidst the chaos.

  "Speed… 6.2… dip in four seconds… no, seven—"

  Tarun lay flat on the ground behind him, clutching his back in agony, his breath heavy from the fall moments ago.

  "Just— just say something that doesn't involve my near-death again."

  "I am trying," Rishabh snapped, his eyes tracking the roller coaster's rhythm, "But it's acceleration is at no fixed speed—"

  "Maybe we don't need to slow it down."

  A calm voice cut through the growing tension.

  The boys turned.

  Farhan stood inclined to a support beam, eyes fixed to the track. His jacket was half torn, face covered with dust and blood dripping from his temple.

  He limped closer, examining the turns, the tilt, and most importantly, the moment the coaster passed near the ground level.

  "You'll break your head if you crack this. I have an idea— listen."

  Rishabh frowned, about to question— but Farhan had already made his move.

  He tore off a rope from a nearby maintainance stand. He pulled it at once, with his rough palms, testing it's strength.

  "Farhan—wait— are you really—" Rishabh began.

  "Trust me." That's all he said, "Just tell me how to do it."

  Then, Rishabh's world begin to blur, predicting every single possibility.

  ——————————————

  The coaster rattled violently, each twist and turn throwing Anaya on either sides of the safety bar.

  Harshit stood calm, almost eerily so.

  His jacket fluttered in the wind, but he did not seem to be bothered. He leaned forward, still away from Anaya, but enough to make her feel his presence.

  "Anaya," he began with a terrifying tone, "Why are you here? For him?"

  She flinched, "What— what are you saying."

  His eyes wandered over her face, examining each change— he measured the cracks in her confidence.

  "Ronak… you think he changed. But don't you remember what he had done to you that day?"

  Her heart skipped. "I… I'm not falling for your—"

  He shook his head in a slow, deliberate motion.

  "He spilled everything. To him, you're just a pawn who he played with."

  Anaya's stomach twisted. The memories flashed before her eyes. She wanted to forget it, but the scars opened in another painful moment.

  Harshit continued, almost soothing, as if he wanted Anaya to relive the moments almost exactly the same.

  "Remember who you were before what he did— but look at you now. Think about it."

  The coaster dropped sharply, throwing her forward. She gripped the railing with her shaking hands, hair whipping into her face.

  But nothing else seemed to be necessary at that point. All she could focus on only one thing— the weight of his words.

  "He isn't worthy of your trust," Harshit tilted his head, a smirk playing at the edge of his face, "Join me, and I will help you end the person who did that with you."

  Anaya blinked rapidly as she fought the swirling of fear and confusion in her chest. "You're… not going to do this."

  Harshit's eyes glimmered with something unreadable. "Decide. Anaya. Decide who you are. Decide what you want."

  ——————————————

  Tarun held his back as he got back to his legs.

  "Ah! Damn it!" he wheezed as breath punched out of his lungs, "I think my spine is dislocated."

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  Rishabh crouched beside him, analysing the final plan. "You're fine," he muttered, "You must have taken worse."

  Tarun twisted, glaring weakly at him.

  "Yeah, but never a 'from the track to the back'!"

  Yug stumbled over after tying his shoes, his hands pressing against his ribs. "You sound like a grandma," he said, half grinning.

  Tarun shot him a stare, "You want to trade places, huh?"

  Yug smirked with pain, leaning forward, "If that's going to make you feel better, my mom knows great remedies for your problem."

  "And is that going to help me now?" Tarun gave a dry laugh.

  "No. Not at all," Yug's tone hardened, "Your pain is only getting worse."

  Tarun's eyes rolled, but still determined. "You're more insane than I thought."

  "And I know you're tougher than I think." Yug smiled faintly, getting ready in a posture to run towards the roller coaster.

  "Alright," Farhan said, dusting off his hands, "Good that you're ready. Once it passes, we need to be quick with out work, Tarun. I hope that's your name."

  Rishabh checked the angle, muttering half to himself, half to the group, "We have a window of 6 seconds. We can time it perfectly."

  Farhan glanced up. "Wait… what the hell—"

  Everyone followed his gaze.

  Up there, a figure clung to the front car— wind shedding through his body, his hoodie whipping violently.

  "What the hell is Jay doing up there!?"

  ——————————————

  Anaya clung to the safety bar, her knuckles turning white and her face pale.

  Harshit leaned on another bar, his tone being like venom wrapped in sympathy.

  "You still don't get it, do you?" he whispered. "He told everyone. The secret you trusted him with— he made it a joke for all."

  Anaya froze. Her breath hitched, tears began to tremble at the edge of his eyelashes.

  The venom began to pierce her soft, delicate ears with trauma, pain and brutality.

  The coaster jolted into a wild loop, throwing sparks across the sky.

  Anaya's body pressed against metal. Her heartbeat drumming against her ribs, words swirling as chaos in her mind.

  Harshit cut through the roar with his cruel, sharp tone, "He doesn't deserve—"

  THWACK!

  A kick landed, clean and precise.

  Harshit's words were ripped from his mouth as he lurched sideways from the impact, his fingers clawing in thin air for balance.

  The wind tore past his face as he teetered on the edge, the world flipping beneath him.

  But before he could fall, a hand shot out— firm, unyielding.

  The hand clutched his neck, dragging him back to the vibrating metal— it was Jay.

  Jay stood there, chest heaving, eyes burning with a quiet fury after a really long time.

  "You're wrong. Totally."

  The coaster plunged into a turn, but the sound ofiron grinding against iron roaring around them was left unheard.

  The weight of Jay's voice drowned out everything— the chaos, the screams, the storm.

  Harshit's smile faded into something new. Confusion. "What… do… you—"

  Standing there, half of his shirt torn, Jay's face was cut and bruised— but he had an unwavering resolve.

  "Jay…" Ronak's voice cracked, "Don't do this…"

  Jay didn't answer, but only his grip tightened, muscles trembling as the coaster moved.

  He looked at Harshit, who clung to his wrist, eyes looking with disbelief.

  "Jay!" Ronak shouted, outstretching his hands forward, as if to pull him back, "Please. Don't say anything."

  Jay's expression didn't change— calm, unshaken, but still under distress. His head turned towards Anaya, like he tried to plead something to her.

  "You've been wrong since the start." Jay continued, grip steady, "About him. About her."

  Anaya stood motionless. The words wrapped her around like a blanket too heavy to hold.

  Ronak's throat tightened. His face dropped, his fingers curling into a fist.

  He knew that tone. He'd heard it before— in the dark, in the quiet, Jay was the one who stayed years ago.

  ——————————————

  That night, everyone left Ronak alone, but Jay never did. The storage room of the orphanage was empty, water leaking from the damaged pipelines.

  Ronak leaned against the brick wall, shoulders hunched, hands clutching his knees.

  He remembered Sahil— the teacher who always smiled and made Anaya feel safe at all times.

  Ronak's lips refused to part, though his heart wanted to scream till his throat burned.

  But, there was just a shiver down his spine.

  Jay sat on one of the boxes in a corner.

  "Speak… no one will judge you. It is fine."

  "Why did I let it happen?' Ronak finally whispered, barely audible.

  Memories clawed onto him— Sahil smiling as Anaya ran around the playground, and Ronak felt hopeful that Anaya would never be alone.

  But slowly, the memories began to shift, when Ronak told Sahil about Anaya's secret, in a belief that he would find the best for Anaya.

  His eyes stung. Slowly, they filled, the first glimmer of tears trembling at the corners.

  He pressed his face against his knees, trying to hold it back, but the dam had cracked.

  A wet laugh escaped out of him— soft, broken and desperate.

  "I didn't… mean to… I just wanted… wanted to protect her."

  His words faltered, jagged and incomplete.

  His hands gripped his hair, pulling it as if it could untangle his helplessness, and guilt.

  Tears began to flow faster now. Not loud and dramatic, but just unstoppable. He just sobbed with the quietest sobs, broken but real.

  He pressed his forehead against the wall, his breath came in ragged gasps.

  "I ruined… it all," he whispered, "I should… never have told… Sahil!"

  And then, finally, he let himself break completely.

  He slid down to the floor, knees drawn to his chest, his back trembling with the weight of pain he was carrying.

  Jay ran towards him, hugging him, as if he wanted to hold the broken pieces of the Ronak he once knew.

  Ronak cried like no one was watching— like a helpless, exposed human.

  The night didn't matter. Only the quiet ache in his chest, that no one could fix, was increasing more and more.

  ——————————————

  Sparks flickered from the joints of the coaster in the present, the whole machine trembling under the strain of chaos.

  Jay’s breaths came heavy—his eyes bloodshot, his face lit by the erratic lights of the roller coaster. The wind was smearing his tears across his cheeks.

  “...She trusted him,” he whispered, voice trembling, “and he blamed himself for something he never did.”

  His voice cracked mid-sentence. The words came out raw—too honest to hide, too painful to control.

  For a split second, Harshit just stared at him, expression unreadable, the glint of his eyes reflecting the cold carnival lights.

  Then suddenly, Harshit’s fingers curled around the handle of his hammer—his movements silent but deliberate. He lunged, aiming the pointed edge right for Jay’s eyes.

  Jay saw the glint, a flash of movement—his instincts jolted alive. He swayed aside, and it missed by inches, slicing through empty air.

  But all of a sudden, the coaster took a dangerously quick drop.

  The wind roared louder, a scream of machinery. For a moment, gravity vanished, then hit like a punch to the gut as both boys staggered. It felt like the whole world tilted beneath them.

  And somewhere—something landed.

  The ride shuddered violently, but both Jay and Harshit felt it—a thud that threw their balance completely off. Their grips slipped, knees buckled. They rolled across the seats, fighting to stay on.

  Far below, Tarun’s distant voice shouted something, but it was drowned by the mechanical howl of the coaster.

  On the rear car, Anaya screamed as the cart tilted sideways. Her small hands scrambled for grip, but the metal was slick with dew. Her feet slipped.

  Ronak’s hand shot out in pure instinct. Their palms met mid-air. He caught her just in time.

  His other hand clutched the safety bar, muscles trembling.

  Their eyes met, but if was different than before.

  Anaya’s tears broke free, streaming down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she said between sobs, “I didn’t listen— I should’ve listened to you!”

  Ronak’s lips parted to respond, but another violent jolt threw them both against the seat.

  Back above, Harshit regained footing first. His body leaned low, eyes calculating the drop ahead. He waited for the perfect moment.

  Then, when the coaster twisted left, he jumped, extending his leg in a flying kick— but the turn betrayed him.

  The cart lurched right instead. The kick missed, slicing air. Harshit barely caught a bar before being thrown off.

  Jay, panting, smirked despite the chaos. He steadied himself on the seat, feet apart, adopting a Bruce Lee stance.

  “Come on,” he breathed, his voice rough, “let’s end this.”

  Harshit’s grin widened—madness behind his eyes. He drew the hammer again, spinning it by the neck.

  Jay adjusted instantly, his body lowering, breath controlled. He stepped in with precision, his strike aimed not for Harshit’s chest, but his wrist.

  CRACK!

  The hammer flew.

  It clattered against the metal and slid, bouncing between the rails.

  Both boys stared for a heartbeat—then the coaster jerked again. The hammer rolled, sliding dangerously toward the back where Ronak and Anaya hung desperately.

  “No—!” Jay’s voice ripped through the wind.

  He turned and lunged, leaping across the shaky joint between the coaster cars, his hand outstretched.

  But another turn hit.

  The coaster banked hard.

  Jay slipped. His knee smashed against the rail, sending him crashing into the side.

  The hammer flew past Anaya’s face by an inch, grazing her hair before spinning off the edge.

  Ronak caught the bar again, barely—his arms shaking violently. He pulled Anaya toward him with his remaining strength, shielding her as sparks shot around them.

  Jay gritted his teeth, pulling himself up, but Harshit was already behind him.

  Before Jay could react, a hand gripped his head and—

  SLAM!

  Jay’s skull cracked against the safety bar. Once. Twice. Again.

  The sound was dull and final. Blood streaked down the metal.

  Jay’s body went limp for a second, his hand twitching for grip.

  Harshit shoved him off balance, sending him sprawling across the seat.

  Breath ragged, Harshit stumbled toward the front car. His arm was bleeding from the wrist, but his mind was unbroken.

  He pressed his elbow down on the control panel, once, twice, again—

  THUD. THUD. THUD.