In one corner, there were several old photographs scattered around.
Areeba walked toward them.
She picked up one of the photographs.
In it, Dadi Zohra looked much younger.
Areeba’s grandmother was standing beside her.
And between them…
stood a little girl.
Meher.
Areeba studied the photograph carefully.
Meher was smiling.
But there was something written on the back.
Areeba turned the photograph over.
There was only one sentence: “We locked her away, but she never truly left.” Areeba looked at Dadi Zohra.
“Locked her away?” Dadi Zohra lowered her eyes.
“The time has come for me to tell you the whole truth.” Areeba remained silent.
Dadi Zohra opened an old trunk.
Beneath the clothes inside was a small wooden box.
She placed the box in front of Areeba.
“Your grandmother left this with me to keep safe.” Areeba opened the box.
Inside was an old key.
And beneath it, a piece of paper.
Areeba picked up the paper.
Only two lines were written on it: “When Areeba comes back, give her this key.” And underneath: “But never tell her which door this key opens.” Areeba stared at the key.
“Which door does this key open?” Dadi Zohra slowly replied, “That room…” Areeba asked, “Which room?” Instead of answering, Dadi Zohra looked up toward the basement ceiling.
“The room you went to twenty years ago.” Areeba’s expression changed.
“The locked room upstairs?” Dadi Zohra nodded.
Suddenly, a sound came from outside the basement.
Someone knocked on the door three times with their fingers.
Knock…
knock…
knock…
The two women looked at each other.
Then Meher’s voice came from outside.
“Zohra…” There was a brief silence.
Then: “Did you give the key to Areeba?” The color drained from Dadi Zohra’s face.
Areeba tightly clenched the key in her fist.
And for the first time, she realized…
Meher wasn’t simply inside the mansion.
She knew their every move.
Dadi Zohra immediately placed a finger over her lips.
Areeba wanted to say something, but Dadi Zohra shook her head.
Another knock came from outside.
Knock…
knock…
knock…
“Areeba…” This time, Meher’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Open the door.” Areeba tightened her grip around the key.
Dadi Zohra whispered, “Don’t answer her.” But there was only one question running through Areeba’s mind.
“If Meher really died…
then how was she talking to us?” Suddenly, an old piece of paper slid underneath the door.
Areeba looked down.
Dadi Zohra immediately picked it up.
“Don’t read it.” Areeba stopped her.
“Not anymore.
I want to know everything.” She took the paper from Dadi Zohra’s hand.
Written in childlike handwriting were the words: “Areeba, you promised me you would come back.” Areeba’s hands began to tremble.
“When did I make that promise?” Dadi Zohra closed her eyes.
“That night.” “Which night?” Dadi Zohra slowly replied, “The night Meher disappeared.” Areeba stared at her in shock.
“Disappeared?
You told me she died.” Dadi Zohra remained silent.
Areeba’s voice grew louder.
“What are you hiding from me?” Instead of answering, Dadi Zohra took something else out of the old trunk.
A small cassette tape.
Areeba stared at it.
“What is this?” “Your grandmother told me to give it to you when you came back.” “What’s on it?” “The sounds from that night.” Areeba looked at the cassette.
“Where’s the recorder?” Dadi Zohra pointed toward a corner of the room.
An old cassette player was sitting there.