The email arrived late in the evening, just as I was winding down after hours of futile attempts to study. The subject line was simple: Meeting: Miss Sharma. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his name as the sender. Professor Reyansh Singh. There was no context, just a time: 9:00 PM. I stared at the screen, my mind racing. What could he possibly want so late?

I shouldn’t have gone. Every instinct told me to ignore it, but curiosity and something far darker propelled me out of my dorm and across the dimly lit campus. By the time I reached his office, my nerves were frayed, and my pulse hammered in my ears. The heavy wooden door was slightly ajar, a single beam of warm light spilling into the hallway.