Milo landed hard against a man’s shoulder. For a split second, he held on. The man didn’t understand what had happened. Then he did. “Get it off—!” He shouted, voice cracking as panic took over. His arms flailed instinctively, trying to grab, to push, to remove whatever had just landed on him.
“Don’t move!” Arjun yelled, pushing through the crowd. “Stay still!” But panic doesn’t listen. The man twisted sharply. Milo slipped. His grip tore free. He scrambled, trying to climb again—fingers searching for anything to hold. Nothing. The man shoved him away. Not out of cruelty. Out of fear.
Milo hit the railing. Barely. For a fraction of a second, he balanced there—small, trembling, completely exposed. Arjun saw it. The exact moment. Time slowed. “Hold—” he started. Too late. Milo jumped. Not toward safety. Not toward Arjun. Just away. Away from noise. From hands. From fear.
His body cleared the railing. And then there was nothing beneath him. He dropped out of sight.