Sneha stood under the rusted metal roof of the bus shelter outside the college gate, her bag clutched tight against her chest. The last bus had left twenty minutes earlier. She had stayed back to finish the practical file, and by the time she reached the stop the road was empty. Streetlights flickered weakly. Distant traffic hummed somewhere beyond the trees. The air smelled of wet earth and diesel.

She checked her phone again. No charge left. No auto in sight. Her hostel was seven kilometres away. Walking alone at this hour felt foolish, but waiting felt worse. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the hem of her salwar brushing the dusty concrete.