He offered his hand to the manager. "Sit with us. Tell us your name."
The manager tapped the photograph. "The capsule didn’t lie. You wrote: ‘If we are ever lost, meet at Mega Ful on 20th March. And don’t leave without all five.’"
Rajsi grabbed it, flipped it over. On the back, in handwriting they all recognized as their own — yet not — were scrawled words: "20th March. Mega Ful. The fifth one is the key. Don’t let the clock strike 9." Kenith checked his watch. 8:52 PM. Neelam Rajsi Kenith Tejaswini 20 March Mega Ful...
They were already exactly where they needed to be.
They were alone.
Neelam pulled out an old, folded envelope from her purse. "Remember our college project? The time capsule we buried behind the old lab?"
The clock struck 9:00.
Kenith snorted. "The one with our ‘future predictions’? I said I’d own a private island."
Neelam smiled — not her lawyer smile, but the old, warm one from college. "Then we’ll name you now. How about... Fulki? A spark." He offered his hand to the manager
And Fulki — the fifth figure — was just gone. But on the table, where she had stood, lay a small, new photograph: all five of them, laughing, arms around each other, the sign glowing bright behind.