The girls dashed out of the basement, their hearts racing. No one spoke until they reached the empty corridor.
"That voice," said Swarali, panting. "It wasn't threatening… it almost sounded… sad?"
"Maybe it was Niyati," whispered Apurva.
"You think she's still around?" asked Darshana, looking over her shoulder.
"Spiritually? Maybe," replied Swara, rubbing her hands together nervously.
"We need to find that red file in the staff room," Prajwal said, her voice steady. "The one marked '2007'."
"But the staff room is always locked," said Anushka. "How do we get in?"
Akshada grinned, "You girls clearly don't know I've watched way too many detective dramas."
"You're not picking any locks," Srushti warned, though secretly impressed.
"No need to," Akshara said softly, holding up a spare key she had 'borrowed' from the storeroom cupboard. "Found this during our last cleaning duty."
Everyone stared at her.
"What?" she said with a cute shrug. "Just in case."
The group exchanged grins. This was it.
—
Next Morning – 6:15 AM
Before school officially began, all ten girls sneaked into the school premises. The early hour gave them just enough cover.
They reached the staff room door. Akshara quickly unlocked it, and they stepped in silently.
Swarali and Apurva tiptoed to the back cupboard, carefully opening drawers and reading the labels.
"Here!" Swarali whispered. "Section: Old Records."
They began flipping through dusty files until Apurva pulled one out.
"Red file. Year: 2007."
Everyone circled around her.
Prajwal opened it slowly.
Inside were student reports, disciplinary records… and then a page labeled Incident Report: Student – Niyati Sharma.
Rutuja read it aloud, "Student Niyati Sharma, found unconscious in the basement… reasons unknown. Dismissed as fainting episode due to heat. No further investigation done. Signed by Principal B.D. Joshi."
"Dismissed?" Anushka repeated. "Just like that?"
"There's more," said Srushti, pulling out a yellowing photo paper-clipped to the back.
It was a class photo. Year: 2007.
In the corner stood a girl—same eyes, same face—Niyati Sharma.
"She was a student here…" Swara murmured. "All this time, we thought it was just a ghost story."
"She was real. And she died here," said Akshada, her tone unusually serious.
"There's another page," said Akshara, carefully unfolding it.
A confession note.
"I know what happened to Niyati. She was pushed. Not an accident. But I can't tell anyone. They'll silence me too. – M.K."
"Who's M.K.?" asked Darshana, wide-eyed.
"I don't know," Prajwal said. "But we're going to find out."
Right then, the staff room light flickered again.
On the chalkboard, which had been clean moments ago, words slowly appeared in white chalk:
"Don't trust the ones smiling at you."
—