Chapter 9 : When The Lights Went Out
The rain started like a whisper. Soft. Distant. Almost polite.
Ananya noticed it first through sound, not sight—the faint tapping against the balcony railing, like someone testing if they were allowed to enter. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, laptop open, half-working, half-reading, a cup of reheated coffee forgotten beside her.
Then the wind picked up. The curtains lifted slightly, fluttering inward, carrying that unmistakable scent of wet earth and concrete—the Chennai monsoon smell she had grown to love. Not dramatic like storms back home. But persistent. Steady. Patient.
Like something that decided to stay.
She stood and moved toward the balcony, sliding the door shut properly, checking the plant trays so they wouldn't overflow. The sky outside had turned that deep blue-grey that always made the city feel quieter than it actually was.
Thunder rolled somewhere far away. She counted unconsciously.
One.
Two.
Three.
Lightning flashed. Then the power went out. The apartment fell into complete darkness except for the faint glow of streetlights leaking through the curtains.
Ananya froze for a second. Not out of fear. Out of memory.
Dark rooms had once meant long study nights during power cuts, sweating under emergency lamps while her parents reminded her how much sacrifice went into her education.
Dark rooms meant silence that wasn't peaceful. But now—
Now it was just... dark.
She exhaled slowly and reached for her phone torch, walking toward the kitchen to find candles. She knew exactly where they were. Third drawer. Right side. Back corner.
Because she always prepared. Always planned. Always made sure nothing caught her unready.
She lit one candle. Then another.
Warm yellow light spread slowly, turning sharp edges soft. Shadows moved gently across walls, making her apartment look almost like it belonged in another time.
The rain grew heavier. She wrapped her shawl tighter around herself and sat near the window, listening.
And then—
A knock. Soft. Three taps.
She frowned slightly. No one visited without calling. She walked to the door carefully and opened it. Adrian stood there, hair slightly damp, holding a flashlight.
"Hi," he said, voice gentle like always.
"Hi..."
"I just came to check... power's gone for the whole block. Amma sent me to see if you're okay."
The sentence was simple. But something in her chest tightened again. Someone sent someone to check if she was okay. She stepped aside.
"Come in."
He entered quietly, like he always did—never looking around in a way that felt intrusive, never making her space feel like it was being evaluated. The candlelight reflected in his eyes.
"It's nice," he said softly.
"The candle or the darkness?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He smiled slightly.
