Amaya didn’t return the pleasantry.

Instead, she stepped forward, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“What is wrong with you?” she hissed. “Do you have any idea how bad this looks? Bringing some girl into your house? What if the neighbors call the police? Niti aunty just told me this… What if—”

“Stop,” Harsh said, his voice low but firm. “Just stop for a second. That Niti aunty is so nosy, why don’t she look at her daughter first”

Amaya crossed her arms. “No. You don’t get to play the victim here. Who is she? Why is she in your bedroom?”

Harsh exhaled, hands on his hips, trying to find the words.

“She had an accident. Right outside. I couldn’t just leave her there. She passed out, and—”

“And you didn’t think maybe, I don’t know, the hospital would be the better choice?”

He looked away.

“There was blood. She panicked when she woke up, just some minutes ago. Started screaming. I honestly didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t want to be involve in police, court matter”

Amaya’s expression faltered. Her arms dropped just a little.

“…She screamed?”

Harsh nodded. “Like she was being hunted.”

The anger in Amaya’s face softened — just slightly — and was replaced by something else. Caution. Concern.

Above them, the floorboards creaked.

Sia had heard everything.

Upstairs, the room had fallen silent again — but Sia wasn’t still.

She had heard everything. Every word.
“Some girl.”
“What if the neighbors call the police?”
“She screamed.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

They were talking about her. A stranger’s home. A woman she didn’t know. A man she didn’t trust. The fear clamped back around her chest like a fist.

She swung her legs off the bed.

The room spun, but she ignored it. Her feet hit the cold wooden floor, knees shaking as she stood. Her eyes darted around — her shoes were near the door. Her dupatta, crumpled on the chair. The window was too narrow to escape. The door was her only option.

She didn’t care where she would go — only that she needed to leave.

Now.

Quiet as a whisper, she turned the doorknob and stepped into the hallway. Her steps were slow, careful, but her heart thundered like a warning drum.

One step…

Then another.

The stairs creaked faintly beneath her.

But downstairs — Amaya heard it.

She turned like instinct, eyes narrowing toward the staircase.

And then she saw her — a blur of pale skin and shaken breath, halfway down the stairs, clutching the banister like a lifeline.

Sia froze.

So did Amaya.

Their eyes met — just for a second.

And Sia bolted.

But Amaya was faster.

She lunged forward, catching Sia’s arm just as the girl stumbled on the last step. Sia cried out, twisting, trying to pull free.

“Let go! Let me go!”

“Hey—hey!” Amaya’s grip stayed firm but careful. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

“You don’t understand, he’s lying— you both— I can’t stay here!”

Her voice cracked like glass.

“He saved your life!” Amaya snapped, sharp but not unkind. “No one’s going to hurt you. Breathe, alright? Just breathe.”

Sia’s legs buckled, but Amaya held her steady.

Behind them, Harsh stood frozen at the kitchen doorway — watching as the girl who had said nothing now said everything all at once… in fear.

Amaya looked over her shoulder at him, then back at the trembling girl in her arms.

“What the hell happened to her?” she whispered.

But Harsh had no answer.

Sia’s breath came in short, panicked bursts.

Her hands trembled where they clutched Amaya’s arms. She looked like a bird mid-flight — feathers ruffled, heart racing, eyes wild.

And in that raw, broken expression… something tugged at Amaya.

A flicker.
A feeling.
A face — younger, blurred by time, maybe thinner — but those same eyes.

For a second, Amaya’s grip loosened. Her brows drew together.

“…Have we met before?” she asked softly.

Sia didn’t answer — couldn’t. Her mind was still drowning. But Amaya tilted her head slightly, studying her again.

The slope of her cheekbone. The mole near her eyebrow. The way her eyes darted, like they were used to searching for exits.

It was like looking at a faded photograph and suddenly realizing the stranger in the corner wasn’t a stranger at all.

“Did you ever live in Delhi?” Amaya asked, more to herself than Sia.

Harsh stepped closer now, cautiously.

“Amaya?”

But she didn’t look at him.

Her voice was quieter now. Caught somewhere between present and past.

“Did you go to St. Teresa’s school?” she asked the girl in her arms. “Fifteen years ago? Second grade?”

Sia flinched — just slightly.

A single tear slipped down her cheek.

Amaya’s breath caught in her throat.

“…Jhanvi?” she whispered.

Sia looked up.

Eyes wide. Wet. Disbelieving.

And for a moment — just one — time bent back on itself. To hot lunch breaks and chalk-stained uniforms. To friendship bracelets and secrets written in glitter pens. To a face from long, long ago. One both of them had lost.

Sia blinked. Her body was still tense — ready to flee — but her eyes locked onto Amaya’s now, searching, searching. Something stirred in her too. Not memory, not yet… but a pull. A flicker behind the fear.

And then—

A sound. A bell.

A memory.