Sunday. Two days after she had supposedly taken her sudden personal leave.
Naina sat with this for a while. The Sunday login could mean anything. But combined with the lesson plan that had been written for weeks Kavitha wasn't expecting to miss, and the red pen in the drawer, and the attendance mark without formal approval — it accumulated.
On Thursday, she decided to go to Kavitha Rao's apartment.
She had found the address easily — the school directory, staffroom, emergency contacts. Kavitha Rao lived in Aundh. The directory listed a next-of-kin: a sister in Chennai. And a local emergency contact: her roommate, a woman named Priti.
She called Priti on Thursday afternoon. The call went like this:
"Hello?"
"Hi, I'm calling about Kavitha Rao. I'm the substitute teacher at her school. I just wanted to check that she's okay — the leave came up quite suddenly and I wanted to make sure everything was all right."
A pause. A very specific pause — the pause of someone deciding something. Then: "She's fine. She's just — she needed some time. Personal stuff. She's okay."
"Is she there? Can I speak to her?"
Another pause. Slightly longer. "She's not here right now. But she's fine. Really."
"Priti," Naina said, keeping her voice gentle. "When did you last speak to her?"
The longest pause. Then: "I have to go. Sorry." And the call ended.
Naina looked at her phone. Then added to her list: Priti's pauses. She's lying about something. She either hasn't spoken to Kavitha recently, or she's been told what to say, or she's afraid. Maybe all three. Go to the apartment in person.
She also added: The students know something happened to Kavitha Rao. They are not going to tell me. I need to find the person in that room who is the weakest link in whatever pact they've made. My candidates are Rohan and Meera. Dev is a different kind. Dev knows the most — he wrote that reflection. But Dev knows the most and is therefore the most controlled. Start with Meera.
