The academic building of HINS sprawled across the grounds, a vast structure of brownish red and cream that always felt a little too large for comfort. Its corridors stretched long and straight, intersecting at odd angles, the kind of place where footsteps echoed longer than they should.

Ira was on the phone, heels clinking sharply against the polished floor as she walked through one such corridor.

"Yes, I'm drinking enough water. No, I do not think proper meals are just a suggestion and a social construct," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

She absolutely thought so. But she wasn't telling her sister that-especially not when the older woman had slipped into nagging mode. Ira had never been good at winning arguments against her. Not when they were children, and definitely not now, when the woman was a successful corporate lawyer.

Arguing was, quite literally, her entire job.

On the other end of the call, her sister muttered an admonishment that made Ira roll her eyes in amused resignation. She turned a corner, the corridor opening into another stretch just as long, just as empty.

She was headed to a room, yes-to make the PPT-but her mind chose that exact moment to very helpfully suggest that she deserved an iced latte.

And damn it, she did deserve an iced latte.

It was practically a biochemical prerequisite for producing anything even remotely resembling a fun PowerPoint after the day she'd had. So she adjusted her direction, angling toward the coffee place tucked into the academic building.

"Okay, okay. Stop nagging me now," she said lightly. "I will look after myself. I will not eat ice cream no matter how much I want to, because the weather is getting chilly and responsible adults don't eat ice cream in the cold."

Her sister murmured something distinctly unconvinced. Not really a mystery, given Ira's track record.

Ira chuckled. "I'm telling the truth! Look-I can look after myself. I know you're five years older, and you've always looked after me and kind of got used to that role-but I'm an adult, Nalini. I've been one for years. And more than that, I'm a doctor. I can really look after myself-"

She never finished the sentence.

Someone slammed into her.

It wasn't a full-body collision, but it wasn't gentle either. Enough force to knock her off balance, enough surprise to steal the breath from her lungs. Ira stumbled, heart jolting, instinctively reaching out to steady herself.

The other person-a man, judging by the height and broad build-didn't stop.

He didn't even slow down.

He just kept walking.

"Son of a bitch-" she muttered, rubbing her shoulder.

On the other end of the call, her sister's voice sharpened immediately, concern bleeding through. Ira sighed.

"Some jerk just... collided into me," she said. "Didn't even say sorry. Didn't stop."

Before the worried lecture could begin, she added quickly, "Don't worry. I'm fine."

She reached the end of the hallway as daylight filtered in from ahead. "I'm hanging up," she said. "Got a thing at four and need to prepare."

Her sister opened her mouth to say something-probably something important, or at least something earnest-but Ira had already hung up with a quick, "Love you, talk later."

Typical.

The coffee place was almost empty.

That alone was strange.

It was usually crowded-some batch or another spilling into it during breaks, voices overlapping, chairs scraping, laughter echoing out into the corridor. Even the outdoor tables in front, the ones that always had someone killing time and soaking in the sun, sat abandoned.

Ira's gaze lifted to the sky.

A heavy, overcast grey stretched above, clouds thick and unmoving, as if the sky itself was holding something back. The air felt damp, swollen with humidity that clung to her skin unpleasantly.

It was December.

Still.

The light had that dull, flat quality to it-no sharp shadows, no warmth. Everything looked a little washed out.

It's probably going to rain soon, she thought, pushing the unease aside as she headed to the counter.

"A large iced latte," she said. "Extra shot. With ice, please."

The coffee was ready in under a minute. She pulled out her phone, scanning the code to pay-and then she felt it.

Not a stare.

That would've been absurd. There was only her and the barista there.

This was different.

A pressure.

Like something leaning in from behind, close enough that the space around her felt wrong. The same subtle, crawling sensation she'd felt earlier, when Miss Indira had spoken her warning.

Ira stiffened.

She turned instinctively, scanning the area behind her.

Nothing.

Just the empty outdoor seating. Rows of vacant chairs. Tables slick with moisture from the air. A sudden cold gust of wind rushed through, rattling the leaves of the nearby trees with a dry, unsettling sound.

She shivered.

From what, she wasn't entirely sure.

"The payment didn't go through, miss."

The barista's voice snapped her out of it. Ira turned back too quickly, pulse jumping.

"Oh-right. Sorry," she said, glancing at her phone. She'd forgotten to finalize it. With an apologetic smile, she scanned the code again.

"There. Done."

The barista nodded in confirmation.

Ira picked up her coffee. The cold seeped into her palm instantly, sharp enough to make her fingers ache.

She stepped back inside the building without lingering. For some reason, the outside air made her skin prickle in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Miss Indira's words are getting to you, Ira, she told herself firmly. Pull yourself together.

She took a long gulp of the latte. The familiar bitterness and faint sweetness hit her system like a grounding jolt. Comforting. Normal.

The unease was just the weather. And pre-lecture nerves. Amplified by a patient's delusional warnings.

Nothing more.

She spun on her heel and headed toward an empty seminar room, the click of her heels the only sound in the hallway now. The echoes seemed louder than before, stretching just a little too long after each step.

She didn't look back.

She had no reason to.

Right?