Aanya POV
The lock gave way with a rusty click.
Aanya flinched, as if even the sound echoed too loud in a room built for secrets. The wooden chest in the corner of the Silence Room creaked open slowly, reluctant to reveal what it had kept hidden for years.
Inside, it smelled like time—old paper, mildew, and the faint trace of sandalwood her mother used to wear. There were bundles of documents, a few photographs, yellowed news clippings... and something wrapped in red silk.
She unfolded it carefully.
A stack of letters. Another journal. And a USB drive.
Her pulse quickened.
The journal bore no initials this time—just a single word scrawled across the front:
"Naina."
---
Aanya sat back against the wall, gripping the letters first. They were addressed to no one. Some weren't even signed. Just raw, desperate confessions scrawled in uneven handwriting.
---
"He said I was special. He said no one would believe me."
"My voice is a weapon that no one taught me to use."
"I told someone. She looked away."
---
Aanya's vision blurred. She didn't need a signature.
She knew Naina had written them.
They were fragments of the truth. Torn, half-buried, whispered into the silence of a world that refused to listen.
And she… she had been part of that silence.
She reached for the USB next. Her hands shook. She didn't know what was on it—a video? An audio file? Documents?
But she knew it would change everything.
Her mother had left this for a reason.
Not to protect herself.
But maybe, finally, to protect the truth.
Aanya stood up slowly, pressing the drive into her palm like a lifeline.
Whatever was on it... it was time to face it.
Even if it shattered everything she thought she knew.