The house had learned a new sound.
Locks.
Soft. Repeated. Careful.
Mira locked them even when she knew he wasn't touching the handle. Even when he was in the other room. Even when the apartment was silent enough to hear pipes breathing in the walls.
She didn't trust quiet anymore.
Quiet was what came before.
Isha sat on the bed, hugging her stuffed rabbit by the ear, watching her mother move back and forth, back and forth, like a soldier guarding a border no one else could see.
"Mama?" she asked.
Mira turned instantly, smile arriving too fast, too practiced.
"Yes?"
Isha hesitated. "Papa mad tonight?"
The question didn't stab anymore.
It carved.
"I don't know," Mira answered honestly.
Because she didn't.
And that uncertainty was becoming its own kind of terror.
In the kitchen, Rayan pressed both hands against the counter, head hanging.
He had heard the lock.
Of course he had.
Each click landed like a verdict: not safe, not trusted, not forgiven.
Good.
He didn't deserve easy.
But the distance was doing something strange to him. Something worse than anger.
It was making him aware.
Aware of how carefully she walked.How she never turned her back fully.How the child watched his hands before his face.
He swallowed hard.
"What did I do…" he whispered.
The memories didn't come as pictures.
They came as reactions.
Mira flinching.
Isha going quiet.
Neighbors pretending not to hear.
His chest tightened until breathing felt optional.
Behind him, the shadow leaned close.
You want to know? it asked almost kindly.Open the door. I'll show you.
Rayan shut his eyes.
"No."
The refusal tasted like blood.
Midnight.
No one slept.
Mira lay beside Isha, eyes open, thoughts running in circles so tight they burned grooves in her mind.
If he's really different…If this is real…
Hope tried to lift its head.
She crushed it immediately.
Hope had nearly destroyed her once.
She would not kneel to it again.
But another thought slipped in, quieter, more dangerous.
If he is different… then what am I doing by staying afraid?
Her stomach twisted.
Because if he had changed—
Then she would have to change too.
And she didn't know how to live without fear anymore.
In the small room, Rayan sat on the floor, back to the wall, staring at the door like it might accuse him.
His head pounded.
Not pain.
Pressure.
Like a dam begging to break.
He could feel something behind it now. Huge. Rotten. Waiting.
"Tell me," he breathed.
The shadow smiled.
You don't survive knowing.
The air grew heavier.
Rayan's hands trembled. His throat burned. His body screamed for the numbness it used to drink itself into.
He stood suddenly.
Too fast.
The chair scraped.
In the other room, Mira bolted upright.
Isha woke, startled.
"Mama—?"
"It's okay," Mira whispered, already on her feet, already between the bed and the door.
Her heart was hammering so loud she was sure he could hear it.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Coming closer.
Then stopping.
Right outside.
Rayan stared at the wood separating them.
On the other side, he could almost feel her fear, sharp as electricity.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.
Silence.
He pressed his forehead lightly against the door.
"I don't know who I was," he continued, voice breaking, "but I know you're scared of me. And you're right to be."
Inside the room, Mira's nails dug into her palms.
Because he sounded sincere.
And sincerity was terrifying.
"Please," he whispered. "I just want to understand."
Understand what?
Understand how he broke them?
Understand how much damage fit inside one man?
Her hand hovered over the lock.
If she opened it, something would change.
If she didn't, something else would.
Either way—
nothing stayed the same after this.
Isha clutched her leg, shaking.
"Mama…"
Mira closed her eyes.
Made her choice.
Her fingers moved toward the lock.
Outside, the shadow inhaled, delighted.
Inside Rayan's skull, something cracked wide enough for a memory to force its way through—
A scream.
Her scream.
His hand.
Blood on tile.
Mira turned the lock.
The click echoed.
Rayan's breath stopped.
The memory rushed forward—
And the door began to open.
[End of Episode 6]