(Vena’s POV) Three days had passed since I found the note.
Three days since those two words had started occupying my thoughts.
Room 17.
I had tried to investigate it.
Carefully.
Quietly.
But every attempt had led to another dead end.
The college library didn’t have a clear record of numbered archive rooms.
Professor Mehta didn’t know anything specific about Room 17.
And Mr.
Rao…
He had said just enough to make me more suspicious.
Nothing more.
So I had decided on one thing.
I would wait.
The field visit was finally here.
And today…
I would see the Central Research Library for myself.
“Vena!” My adoptive mother’s voice came from downstairs.
“You’re going to be late!” I looked at the clock.
7:10 AM.
My bus was scheduled to leave at eight.
I quickly checked my backpack.
Water bottle.
Notebook.
College ID.
Pen.
Phone.
Lunch.
Everything was there.
I reached for the small pouch containing the brass key.
My fingers stopped.
For a moment…
I considered taking it.
If Room 17 really had something to do with the key…
Maybe carrying it would help me understand what it opened.
But the warning came back to me.
Don’t take the key.
I had no idea whether the unknown person was telling the truth.
Still…
I decided to leave it behind.
I closed the drawer.
“Not today.” Downstairs, my adoptive mother was waiting with breakfast.
“You barely ate yesterday.” “I’m fine, Mom.” She placed a small box on the table.
“Take this with you.” I opened it.
Sandwiches.
I smiled.
“I already have lunch.” “And now you have more.” She said it so casually that I couldn’t help laughing.
My adoptive father looked up from his newspaper.
“Field visit?” “Yes.” “Where are you going?” “The State Museum and Central Research Library.” He nodded.
“Sounds educational.” Kabir would probably call it a punishment.
I smiled at the thought.
My father folded the newspaper.
“Stay with your group.” “I will.” “And keep your phone charged.” “I will.” “Don’t wander off somewhere alone.” I paused.
Those words suddenly felt strangely relevant.
“Don’t worry.” “I’m not going anywhere alone.” My mother smiled.
“Good.” For a moment…
I looked at both of them.
There was nothing suspicious in their expressions.
No hidden fear.
No strange reaction.
Just concern.
Ordinary parental concern.
Yet Nikhil’s voice from my previous life still existed somewhere inside my memory.
“They never loved you.” I looked away.
I still didn’t know what was true.
And until I had proof…
I wouldn’t accuse the people who had raised me.
At 7:50…
I reached college.
A large college bus was waiting outside the main gate.
Students were already gathering.
Kabir was standing near the bus door with a packet of chips.
Riya stared at him.
“You brought chips?” Kabir looked offended.
“It’s a long journey.” “It’s only forty minutes.” “Exactly.” “Forty dangerous minutes.” Ananya laughed.
“You’re impossible.” Kabir spotted me.
“Vena!” He waved.
“Come quickly.” “We need to choose seats.” I walked toward them.
“Why?” “Because window seats are limited.” Riya shook her head.
“You could simply sit anywhere.” “That is not how strategy works.” Arther was standing near the bus, checking something on his phone.
He looked up when I approached.
“Morning.” “Morning.” “You brought everything?” “Yes.” He nodded.
“Good.” Kabir suddenly pointed toward the bus.
“Decision.” “Who gets the back seat?” Riya immediately said, “Not you.” “Why?” “Because you’ll spend the entire journey shouting.” Kabir placed his hand over his heart.
“I call that creating an atmosphere.” We finally boarded.
I took a window seat.
Ananya sat beside me.
Across the aisle…
Kabir and Riya continued arguing about snacks.
Arther sat one row ahead.
Professor Mehta took the front seat with the other faculty members.
The bus slowly started moving.
As the college disappeared behind us…
I looked through the window.
The city passed by in familiar pieces.
Shops.
Traffic.
Schools.
People beginning their morning.
Everything looked ordinary.
But inside my backpack…
There was a notebook containing a mystery that had begun changing the way I saw my life.
Ananya turned toward me.
“You’ve been quiet.” “Am I?” “Yes.” She smiled.
“You’re usually more talkative now.” I looked at her.
“Maybe I’m just sleepy.” She studied me for a moment.
Then smiled.
“Fine.” “But if you fall asleep on my shoulder…” “I’m moving you.” I laughed.
“Deal.” The bus became louder as everyone settled down.
Kabir started telling a ridiculous story about his first practical class.
Riya interrupted him every thirty seconds to correct something.
Even Professor Mehta eventually turned around.
“Keep the volume down.” Kabir immediately lowered his voice.
“Yes, sir.” Two seconds later…
He started whispering dramatically.
Everyone laughed.
For the first time in days…
I relaxed.
Maybe today could simply be a college field visit.
Maybe I didn’t have to chase every mystery.
Maybe I could just enjoy the day with my friends.
Then…
My phone vibrated.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown Number.
One message.
“You’re on your way.” My smile disappeared.
I looked around the bus.
Everyone was busy talking.
Another message appeared.
“When you reach the library…” I waited.
A third message arrived.
“Don’t ask Rao about Room 17 in front of everyone.” My heart began beating faster.
Whoever was sending these messages…
knew exactly where I was going.
And they knew what I intended to ask.
I quickly locked my phone.
Ananya noticed.
“Everything okay?” I forced a smile.
“Yeah.” “Just a message.” She nodded and turned back toward the window.
I looked down at my hands.
The mystery had followed me onto the bus.
But this time…
I wasn’t going to let fear control me.
I had three rules now.
Observe.
Verify.
Never trust blindly.
And when we finally reached the Central Research Library…
I would find out exactly what Room 17 meant.
Even if the answer changed everything I thought I knew.
The bus continued along the highway.
I kept my phone face-down on my lap.
I didn’t reply to the unknown number.
Not yet.
If they could somehow track my movements, giving them information about what I knew would be foolish.
So I stayed quiet.
And waited.
About twenty minutes later…
Kabir suddenly stood up.
“We’re almost there!” Professor Mehta immediately turned around.
“Kabir.” He froze.
“Yes, sir?” “Sit down.” Kabir slowly sat.
“Yes, sir.” Riya covered her mouth to hide her laughter.
Ananya whispered, “You never learn.” Kabir whispered back, “I’m excited.” The bus finally entered the city center.
The buildings became taller.
Traffic increased.
Then…
Through the window…
I saw it.
A large stone building surrounded by old trees.
A bronze sign stood near the entrance.
CENTRAL RESEARCH LIBRARY My eyes remained fixed on it.
So this was the place.
The place mentioned in the message.
The place connected to the archives.
And perhaps…
The place connected to Room 17.
The bus stopped near the entrance.
Everyone began getting down.
Professor Mehta gathered the students.
“Listen carefully.” “We’re here for an academic visit.” “Stay with your assigned group.” “Do not enter restricted areas.” “And please don’t touch any historical material without permission.” Everyone nodded.
Kabir raised his hand.
Professor Mehta sighed.
“Yes?” “Can we touch the food?” The students laughed.
Professor Mehta shook his head.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Kabir smiled.
“I knew this was going to be a good trip.” We entered the library.
The atmosphere immediately changed.
It was quieter than our college library.
The walls were lined with old wooden shelves.
Large glass cabinets displayed historical documents.
A few framed photographs showed the city’s development over several decades.
The air even smelled different.
Old paper.
Wood.
Dust.
History.
A man in his sixties approached Professor Mehta.
“Welcome.” Professor Mehta smiled.
“Good morning, Mr.
Rao.” I stopped.
Mr.
Rao.
So he really was here.
He greeted the professors first.
Then looked toward the students.
His eyes briefly met mine.
There was no surprise on his face.
Almost as if…
He had expected me.
“Welcome to the Central Research Library,” he said.
Everyone thanked him.
He began explaining the different sections.
“This library contains documents dating back several decades.” “Most of the public collection is available to students.” “But the archive section is restricted.” He pointed toward a corridor on the left.
A heavy wooden door stood at the end.
A small metal plate beside it read: ARCHIVE SECTION – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY My eyes remained there for a second too long.
Ananya gently touched my arm.
“Come on.” I followed the group.
Mr.
Rao led us through the public section first.
He showed us old maps.
Historical photographs.
Newspapers.
Government records.
Students asked questions.
Kabir surprisingly became interested in an old map.
“Sir…” “Did this road really exist?” Mr.
Rao smiled.
“Yes.” “It was one of the oldest routes through the city.” Kabir looked impressed.
“That’s actually cool.” Riya whispered, “See?
History isn’t boring.” “I never said it was.” “You complained about it yesterday.” “That was before I saw the map.” While everyone was distracted…
I glanced toward the archive corridor.
The door remained closed.
No one was near it.
Then…
Mr.
Rao spoke.
“The archive contains several private collections.” “Some are connected to old families of this region.” My attention immediately sharpened.
He continued.
“One of the collections is currently being reorganized.” I knew exactly which collection I wanted to ask about.
But the unknown message returned to my mind.
Don’t ask Rao about Room 17 in front of everyone.
So I waited.
The group moved toward another display.
I stayed at the back for a moment.
Then…
Someone lightly tapped my shoulder.
I turned.
It was Arther.
“You’ve been looking at that door since we came in.” I froze.
“Have I?” He nodded.
“Several times.” I smiled awkwardly.
“I’m just curious.” He looked toward the archive door.
“About what’s inside?” “Maybe.” He didn’t question me further.
Instead, he said, “If you want to know something…” “Ask.” I looked at him.
His expression was calm.
Genuine.
For a second…
I considered telling him everything.
The photograph.
The key.
The messages.
Room 17.
But I stopped.
Not because I didn’t trust him…
Because I didn’t yet know who else was involved.
“I’ll tell you later.” He nodded.
“Okay.” No pressure.
No questions.
He simply walked back toward the group.
I looked at the archive door again.
Then…
Something caught my eye.
Near the bottom of the wooden frame…
Almost hidden beneath years of paint…
Was a tiny metal plate.
The number was worn.
But still readable.
17.
My heartbeat stopped for a second.
Room 17.
It wasn’t just a message.
It wasn’t just a number on a key.
It was here.
Inside the library.
And I had just found it.
I stared at the tiny metal plate.
For a moment…
I forgot where I was.
The brass key.
The number 17.
The anonymous message.
And now…
A door carrying the same number.
My heartbeat quickened.
“Vena?” Ananya’s voice brought me back.
I turned.
She was standing a few steps away.
“Everyone’s moving ahead.” I nodded quickly.
“Coming.” I took one last look at the door.
There was something strange about it.
Unlike the other archive doors…
This one looked older.
The paint around its edges was cracked.
And the small number plate appeared much older than the others.
I wanted to get closer.
But students weren’t allowed beyond the marked area.
So I stepped away.
We continued toward the main reading hall.
Mr.
Rao stopped beside a large glass display.
Inside were several old documents.
“These records belonged to families who played an important role in the city’s development.” He pointed toward one document.
“Property agreements.” Another.
“Business records.” Then…
A faded family register.
“Private family records are usually the most difficult to preserve.” Kabir leaned closer.
“Why?” “Because families often don’t want certain matters made public.” Mr.
Rao answered calmly.
“Sometimes documents disappear.” “Sometimes they’re deliberately hidden.” My eyes met his.
He didn’t look away.
Professor Mehta thanked him.
The students moved toward the next section.
I remained behind for a moment.
Mr.
Rao noticed.
“You have a question.” It wasn’t a question.
It was a statement.
I lowered my voice.
“That door…” His expression remained neutral.
“Which door?” “Number 17.” A pause.
Then…
“Why are you interested in it?” I didn’t answer immediately.
“Because I’ve seen that number before.” His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Where?” I couldn’t tell him about the key.
Not yet.
“I just remember it.” Mr.
Rao studied me for several seconds.
Then said quietly, “Some numbers are better left forgotten.” My heartbeat increased.
“Why?” Before he could answer…
Professor Mehta called from across the hall.
“Vena!” I turned.
“Yes, sir?” “We’re moving to the next section.” “Coming.” I looked back at Mr.
Rao.
But he had already turned away.
I walked back toward my friends.
Kabir immediately whispered, “What were you two talking about?” “Nothing important.” He raised an eyebrow.
“That didn’t look like nothing.” Riya interrupted.
“Leave her alone.” Kabir shrugged.
“Fine.” The tour continued.
But my mind was no longer inside the exhibition hall.
It was back at that door.
Room 17.
There had to be a reason the unknown person had given me that number.
And there had to be a reason Mr.
Rao didn’t want to talk about it.
Then…
As the group approached the next section…
I felt something inside my backpack.
My phone vibrated.
I took it out discreetly.
Unknown Number.
One message.
“You found it.” My eyes widened.
Before I could process it…
Another message arrived.
“Now look at the door again.” I slowly turned around.
The archive corridor was nearly empty.
But…
The door marked 17 was no longer completely closed.
There was a narrow gap.
Someone had opened it.
Just enough to reveal darkness inside.
I stared at it.
No one else seemed to notice.
Then my phone vibrated one final time.
“Don’t enter.” I looked from the message…
To the half-open door.
For the first time…
I realized something.
The person sending these warnings wasn’t trying to make me enter.
They were trying to make sure I didn’t.
And that made me wonder…
What was waiting behind Room 17?
I kept staring at the half-open door.
Every instinct told me to walk toward it.
But the message on my phone was clear.
Don’t enter.
For once…
I listened.
“Vena?” Ananya touched my arm.
“Are you coming?” I immediately turned away from the corridor.
“Yes.” I slipped my phone into my pocket and joined the group.
But my eyes kept returning to that door.
Mr.
Rao was speaking to the students near the reading section.
“These documents are organized according to their collection numbers.” He pointed toward several shelves.
“Some collections are available for academic research.” “Others require special permission.” A student raised his hand.
“Sir, can students request access to restricted records?” “Yes.” “But only through the proper procedure.” “Why?” “Because some documents are extremely fragile.” The student nodded.
I listened quietly.
Then…
A library assistant hurried toward Mr.
Rao.
He whispered something in his ear.
Mr.
Rao’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
“What happened?” Professor Mehta asked.
“Nothing serious.” Mr.
Rao replied.
“One of the archive doors was left open.” My heartbeat stopped.
Room 17.
Professor Mehta looked concerned.
“Was it supposed to be locked?” “Yes.” The assistant nodded.
“I’ll handle it.” Mr.
Rao turned toward the corridor.
Before walking away…
His eyes met mine.
For a second…
Neither of us spoke.
Then he disappeared down the corridor.
Kabir leaned toward me.
“Why does this place suddenly feel like a detective movie?” Riya whispered, “Because you watch too many movies.” “I’m serious.” “You’re never serious.” Ananya smiled.
“Let’s just enjoy the visit.” I nodded.
But I couldn’t.
Something was wrong.
A few minutes later…
Mr.
Rao returned.
His expression was calm again.
“The issue has been resolved.” Professor Mehta nodded.
“Good.” The tour continued.
But I noticed one thing.
The library assistant who had gone with Mr.
Rao…
Wasn’t with him when he returned.
And the corridor…
Was now completely empty.
I checked my phone.
No new messages.
For some reason…
That silence felt worse than the warnings.
Then…
Someone spoke beside me.
“You noticed it too.” I turned.
Arther.
“What?” “The door.” I stared at him.
He lowered his voice.
“You kept looking at it.” I didn’t answer.
He continued.
“Something about that room bothers you.” I hesitated.
Then finally said, “I think someone left it open by mistake.” Arther nodded.
“Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced.
But he didn’t press me either.
The group moved toward the museum section of the library.
I followed.
But my mind remained in the corridor.
The key was at home.
So whoever had opened Room 17…
Hadn’t opened it because of my key.
At least…
I didn’t think so.
Then what was the reason?
During the next presentation…
I noticed Mr.
Rao standing at the far end of the hall.
He wasn’t looking at the students.
He was looking toward the corridor.
Then…
His phone rang.
He answered.
I couldn’t hear the conversation.
But I saw his expression change.
Concern.
Real concern.
He ended the call.
And immediately walked toward the staff office.
I watched him disappear.
Something had happened.
And somehow…
I had a feeling it was connected to Room 17.
The presentation continued…
But I wasn’t listening anymore.
My eyes kept drifting toward the corridor where Mr.
Rao had disappeared.
Something had happened.
I didn’t know what.
And I had no intention of blindly following him.
If I had learned anything from my previous life…
It was that curiosity without caution could become dangerous.
So I stayed with my group.
For now.
“Vena?” Ananya whispered.
“You haven’t written anything for the last five minutes.” I looked down at my notebook.
She was right.
The page was completely blank.
I smiled awkwardly.
“Sorry.” “I’m just thinking.” “About the lecture?” “Something like that.” She studied me for a moment.
Then smiled.
“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you.” I looked at her.
There was genuine concern in her eyes.
For a second…
I almost told her everything.
The photograph.
The key.
The anonymous messages.
Room 17.
But the words remained trapped inside me.
“I know.” “Thank you.” She nodded.
“Whenever you’re ready.” Then she returned her attention to the presentation.
I quietly looked away.
A few minutes later…
Professor Mehta announced a short break.
“Everyone can take fifteen minutes.” “Stay inside the library.” The students immediately started talking.
Kabir stretched his arms.
“Finally!” “Freedom.” Riya laughed.
“We’re literally inside a library.” “Freedom is a state of mind.” Arther shook his head.
“You make everything complicated.” “I call it personality.” The group moved toward the café area inside the library.
I stayed behind for a moment.
My eyes automatically went toward the corridor.
The door marked 17 was closed now.
Completely.
No gap.
No movement.
Nothing.
If I hadn’t seen it open…
I might have thought I imagined it.
I took a breath.
Then followed my friends.
The café area was small but comfortable.
Kabir immediately ordered something.
Riya looked at him.
“We’re only here for fifteen minutes.” “Exactly.” “That’s enough time to eat.” Ananya laughed.
“How do you manage to think about food all the time?” “Practice.” I smiled.
Their conversation helped distract me.
For a few minutes…
I felt normal again.
Then my phone vibrated.
I checked it beneath the table.
Unknown Number.
“You shouldn’t be asking about Room 17.” My fingers tightened around the phone.
I didn’t reply.
Another message appeared.
“The record you are looking for is not inside the room.” I frowned.
Then another.
“It’s inside the library.” My eyes moved toward the shelves around us.
Inside the library.
That could mean thousands of documents.
What exactly was I supposed to find?
I typed: What record?
The message showed as delivered.
No reply.
I waited.
Nothing.
I locked my phone.
“Vena?” Kabir was looking at me.
“You’re staring at your phone like it insulted you.” I quickly put it away.
“It’s nothing.” He laughed.
“Good.” “Because we’re going to the historical map section.” “Come on.” We walked toward the next exhibition.
Large maps covered the walls.
One showed the city nearly fifty years ago.
Another showed the boundaries of old properties.
Mr.
Rao had returned to the group by then.
His expression was calm.
Almost too calm.
He began explaining the maps.
“City boundaries changed many times over the decades.” “Some private properties were later divided.” “Some were renamed.” “Others disappeared entirely.” Riya raised her hand.
“What happens to the original ownership records?” Mr.
Rao smiled.
“That depends.” “Some remain with the government.” “Some stay with families.” “And some…” He paused.
“…become difficult to locate.” My attention sharpened.
“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Mr.
Rao looked at me.
“Because records can be moved.” “Sometimes legally.” “Sometimes for reasons that aren’t immediately clear.” The room became quiet.
He pointed toward a section of the map.
“Look here.” Everyone gathered closer.
He showed us an old property boundary.
“This area once contained several large private estates.” He moved his finger across the map.
“Most were demolished or redeveloped.” Then…
His finger stopped.
At one particular location.
The name was barely visible.
Anand Estate.
My breath caught.
Kabir noticed my expression.
“You okay?” I nodded.
“Yes.” But I couldn’t look away.
Anand Estate.
Not Anand House.
Anand Estate.
That meant the property might have been much larger than I thought.
And if this map was correct…
Anand House wasn’t an isolated building.
It had once been part of a much bigger property.
Mr.
Rao continued.
“Historical maps can sometimes reveal things that modern records don’t.” “Old boundaries.” “Buildings that no longer exist.” “Private roads.” “Even entrances that were later sealed.” My eyes moved across the map.
There was a small structure marked near Anand Estate.
The label was faded.
I leaned closer.
I could barely read it.
Service Block — 17.
My heart skipped.
17.
Again.
Room 17.
Key marked 17.
Now…
A structure marked 17 on an old map.
Three separate clues.
No longer easy to dismiss as coincidence.
“Sir…” My voice was quieter this time.
“What’s the Service Block?” Mr.
Rao’s expression changed.
He looked at the map.
Then at me.
“It was part of the old estate.” “What was it used for?” “Storage.” “Mostly.” “Mostly?” I repeated.
He hesitated.
“Old properties often had secondary buildings.” “Workers’ quarters.” “Storage rooms.” “Private offices.” “Nothing unusual.” But his voice didn’t sound convincing.
Before I could ask another question…
A library assistant approached him.
“Sir…” Mr.
Rao turned.
The assistant whispered something.
This time…
I saw his face clearly.
He was worried.
“Are you certain?” The assistant nodded.
Mr.
Rao immediately looked toward the archive corridor.
Then back at the assistant.
“Who found it?” The assistant lowered his voice.
“I don’t know.” Mr.
Rao’s expression hardened.
“Then find out.” He walked away with him.
I looked at Arther.
He had heard enough to realize something was wrong.
“What happened?” “I don’t know.” He glanced toward the corridor.
“Something about the archive.” I nodded.
Neither of us moved.
A few minutes later…
Mr.
Rao returned alone.
He looked at Professor Mehta.
“There’s been a small problem.” Professor Mehta frowned.
“What kind of problem?” “One of the old records has been removed from its designated shelf.” The students immediately started whispering.
Professor Mehta looked concerned.
“Is anything damaged?” “No.” “Just missing?” “Yes.” He paused.
“Which record?” Mr.
Rao didn’t answer immediately.
His eyes moved toward the students.
Then…
Toward me.
“The Anand Estate property register.” My heart dropped.
The room became strangely silent.
That wasn’t just another old document.
It was the exact record I needed.
And now…
Someone had taken it.
Not yesterday.
Not last year.
Today.
While we were inside the library.
I looked toward the corridor.
Room 17 remained closed.
But suddenly…
I wasn’t wondering what was behind that door anymore.
I was wondering…
Who had just taken the record—and why?
For several seconds…
Nobody in the room spoke.
The students looked at one another, confused.
Professor Mehta stepped closer to Mr.
Rao.
“When was the register last seen?” “Earlier this morning.” “It was in the archive section before the students arrived.” “And now?” “Missing.” Mr.
Rao’s answer was calm…
But his eyes weren’t.
Kabir leaned toward me.
“Is this normal?” I shook my head.
“I don’t think so.” Riya whispered, “Could someone have misplaced it?” “Maybe.” But something inside me said no.
The timing was too perfect.
We had just arrived.
The archive door had mysteriously been left open.
Mr.
Rao had received a strange phone call.
And now…
The Anand Estate register was missing.
Professor Mehta turned toward the students.
“Everyone remain calm.” “This is a library matter.” “Nobody is being accused of anything.” The librarian nodded.
“We’ll check the movement records first.” Movement records?
That caught my attention.
Every person entering the restricted section would have to be recorded.
So if the register had been removed…
There should be a record of who accessed it.
Unless…
Someone had found another way.
Mr.
Rao walked toward the archive corridor.
I watched him disappear behind the corner.
My curiosity grew stronger.
But I remembered my promise.
Don’t act recklessly.
I wouldn’t enter the restricted section.
I wouldn’t touch anything.
I would observe.
That was enough.
A few minutes later…
Mr.
Rao returned carrying a thin file.
“We checked the access register.” Professor Mehta asked, “Any names?” Mr.
Rao nodded.
“Only authorized staff members.” “Nobody else entered.” Kabir looked relieved.
“So…” “Does that mean nobody stole it?” Mr.
Rao looked at him.
“It means we don’t know how it disappeared.” Kabir’s expression changed.
“That’s somehow worse.” Riya whispered, “Please stop talking.” I looked toward the archive corridor again.
Something bothered me.
If only authorized staff members had entered…
Then whoever removed the register either had permission…
Or knew how to bypass the system.
Neither possibility was comforting.
Mr.
Rao placed the file on a nearby table.
“We’ll continue the search.” Professor Mehta nodded.
“Of course.” The students slowly returned to the scheduled tour.
But the atmosphere had changed.
Nobody was laughing anymore.
Even Kabir had become quiet.
I tried to focus on the exhibits.
But my mind kept returning to one question.
Why would anyone steal the Anand Estate register?
If it contained nothing important…
There would be no reason.
Unless…
It contained something someone didn’t want found.
Ananya came closer.
“Vena.” “Yes?” “You’ve been thinking about this since they mentioned Anand House.” I froze.
She continued softly.
“Is there something you know?” I looked at her.
She wasn’t accusing me.
She was genuinely asking.
I could have told her.
But then what?
She could become involved.
And I didn’t want that.
So I shook my head.
“No.” “I just find the whole thing strange.” Ananya studied me for a moment.
Then nodded.
“Okay.” “But if something is bothering you…” “Tell me.” I smiled.
“I will.” The group moved toward the old newspaper section.
I walked slowly behind them.
Then…
Something caught my eye.
A display cabinet contained newspapers from fifteen years ago.
I stopped.
One headline immediately stood out.
ANAND ESTATE DISPUTE ENTERS FINAL HEARING My heart skipped.
I leaned closer to the glass.
The article was partly faded.
But one sentence remained readable: “The dispute concerns ownership rights and several documents believed to have been kept inside the estate’s private records room.” Private records room.
My mind immediately returned to Room 17.
Could that be it?
I looked for more information.
The article continued: “According to court filings, the private records room was located within the estate’s secondary service block.” My heartbeat became faster.
Service Block.
The same structure I’d seen on the old map.
The one marked 17.
So Room 17…
might not be a room inside the library at all.
It could refer to a location connected to the old Anand Estate.
But then why was there a door numbered 17 inside this library?
I felt confused.
Maybe the number wasn’t a room number.
Maybe it was a collection number.
Or…
Maybe the two locations were connected somehow.
I pulled out my notebook.
I wrote: Anand Estate → Service Block → 17 Then beneath it: Private records room I stared at the words.
This was becoming more complicated.
“Vena.” I looked up.
Mr.
Rao was standing a few feet away.
He had noticed my notebook.
“You seem very interested in the Anand Estate.” I slowly closed it.
“Yes.” He looked at me carefully.
“Why?” I hesitated.
Then answered honestly.
“Because there seem to be many missing pieces.” He nodded.
“That’s true.” “Do you know what happened to the private records?” His expression became unreadable.
“I know what the official records say.” “And what do they say?” He looked around before answering.
“The room was sealed.” “When?” “Years ago.” “Why?” “Because of the legal dispute.” “And the documents?” “Some were transferred.” “Some were never found.” I stared at him.
“Never found?” He nodded.
“That’s why the Anand Estate register is important.” My heart tightened.
“Because it might tell us what happened?” “Exactly.” I lowered my voice.
“Then why was it removed today?” Mr.
Rao didn’t answer.
He simply looked at me.
For a long moment…
Neither of us spoke.
Then he said quietly, “That’s what I intend to find out.” He walked away.
I watched him go.
Something about his answer bothered me.
He hadn’t said: “We’ll find it.” He had said: “I intend to find out.” As if…
He already suspected who had taken it.
A few minutes later…
The librarian announced that the missing register had still not been found.
The field visit would continue as planned.
Students slowly relaxed.
But I couldn’t.
Because as I closed my notebook…
I noticed something lying beneath the table.
A small piece of paper.
I picked it up.
It wasn’t a library receipt.
It wasn’t an official note.
It was handwritten.
Only four words: “The register wasn’t stolen.” I stared at it.
My heartbeat increased.
Another line appeared beneath it.
“It was moved.” I turned the paper over.
Nothing.
No name.
No explanation.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
One message: “Stop looking for the register.” I stared at the screen.
A second message arrived.
“Look for what the register was hiding.” My eyes slowly moved toward the archive corridor.
The door marked 17 was still closed.
But now…
I knew one thing for certain.
The missing register wasn’t the real mystery.
Whatever had been hidden inside it…
was.”Look for what the register was hiding.” I read the message again.
Then locked my phone.
My mind was racing.
The register wasn’t stolen.
It was moved.
But why?
And what exactly could an old property register possibly be hiding?
— “Vena!” Kabir’s voice pulled me back.
“Are you coming?” I quickly slipped the handwritten note into my notebook.
“Yes.” I joined the group.
Everyone was now gathered near the old newspaper section.
Professor Mehta was explaining the history of the city.
I tried listening.
But my attention kept drifting toward the archive corridor.
Room 17.
That number had appeared too many times.
The brass key.
The anonymous message.
The old map.
The service block.
And now…
The archive door.
There had to be a connection.
— The librarian approached Professor Mehta.
“Sir, we’ve checked the main records.” “Unfortunately, the register isn’t there.” Professor Mehta frowned.
“Have you checked the temporary storage?” “Yes.” “The digitization room?” “Yes.” “Nothing?” “Nothing.” Mr.
Rao stood nearby.
He hadn’t said anything.
But I noticed his hands were tightly clasped behind his back.
He was thinking.
— Kabir whispered, “Maybe someone accidentally put it somewhere else.” Riya nodded.
“That’s possible.” “But why is everyone acting so serious?” Kabir shrugged.
“Because it’s an old document.” “People who like old documents take them seriously.” Ananya smiled.
“You’re making fun of them while standing inside a library.” “I respect libraries.” “From a safe distance.” I smiled.
Their conversation helped me stay calm.
But then…
Mr.
Rao suddenly turned toward the archive corridor.
A library assistant had appeared at the entrance.
He said something quietly.
Mr.
Rao’s expression changed.
He immediately followed him.
I watched them disappear.
— I wanted to follow.
Every part of me wanted to.
But I stopped myself.
If I went into a restricted area…
I could create unnecessary trouble.
Instead…
I looked around.
The newspaper section had several old catalogues.
Maybe the answer was already here.
I started checking the shelves.
One catalogue.
Then another.
Nothing.
Then I found a thick green volume titled: PROPERTY COLLECTION INDEX I pulled it out.
Dust rose into the air.
I coughed.
Kabir looked over.
“Bless you.” “It’s dust.” “Same thing.” I ignored him.
— I opened the index.
Hundreds of property names were arranged alphabetically.
I turned the pages.
A…
B…
C…
Then…
Anand Estate.
I stopped.
The entry was short.
Collection Code: AE-17 My heart skipped.
Another 17.
I read the details.
Anand Estate — Private Property Collection Collection Code: AE-17 Status: Restricted Primary Records: Transferred Additional Documents: Incomplete I stared at the final line.
**Incomplete.** That word had appeared again and again.
Missing records.
Incomplete documents.
A hidden room.
Something wasn’t adding up.
— I checked the reference number beside the collection.
AE-17 / Box 4 Box 4.
Could that be the location of the missing register?
I quickly wrote the reference in my notebook.
Then…
I noticed another line.
It was handwritten in faded blue ink.
Not part of the printed catalogue.
Someone had written: “Do not combine with AH-27.” I froze.
AH-27.
The reference from my college library.
The same number connected to Anand House.
Why would someone specifically warn against combining the two files?
Unless…
They were never supposed to be connected.
Or someone had tried to hide the connection.
— “Vena?” I quickly closed the catalogue.
Ananya was standing beside me.
“What did you find?” “Nothing.” She looked at the book.
“That doesn’t look like nothing.” I smiled.
“Just an old property record.” She nodded.
“Okay.” She didn’t push.
I was beginning to appreciate that about her.
— I returned the catalogue to the shelf.
But before letting go…
I noticed something behind it.
A thin black folder.
It had slipped between two books.
I pulled it out carefully.
There was no title.
Only a small handwritten label: AE-17 My heartbeat increased.
I looked around.
Nobody was watching.
I opened it.
Inside were photocopies of old documents.
Most were ordinary.
Property boundaries.
Maintenance records.
Legal notices.
Then…
One photograph.
It showed Anand Estate many years ago.
The photograph was different from the one I’d received.
This one showed the entire property.
The main house.
The garden.
And a separate building behind it.
The service block.
I looked closer.
There was a small marking on the building.
17.
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
So the number really existed.
It wasn’t random.
— Then I noticed something else.
The back of the photograph had a handwritten sentence.
“The room was never part of the house.” I frowned.
What did that mean?
The service block was separate.
So perhaps Room 17…
Wasn’t inside Anand House.
It was somewhere else.
But where?
— A shadow suddenly fell across the table.
I quickly closed the folder.
Mr.
Rao stood there.
His eyes moved from me…
To the black folder.
For the first time since I’d met him…
He looked genuinely startled.
“Where did you get that?” His voice was quiet.
But serious.
I pointed toward the shelf.
“It was behind the catalogue.” He took the folder from my hands.
He didn’t open it.
Instead…
He looked at the label.
AE-17.
His jaw tightened.
“This shouldn’t be here.” “Why?” He didn’t answer.
“Is it connected to Anand Estate?” A long silence followed.
Then he said, “Yes.” My heart raced.
“Then why is it restricted?” “Because some documents in this collection were never officially released.” “What kind of documents?” He looked directly at me.
“Documents concerning the Anand family’s private affairs.” I swallowed.
“Family affairs?” He nodded.
“Some names were removed from the public records.” “Why?” “Because someone requested it.” “Who?” Mr.
Rao looked away.
“I don’t know.” I knew that wasn’t the whole truth.
— He placed the folder under his arm.
“I’ll take care of this.” I stood.
“Sir…” He stopped.
“Does AE-17 have anything to do with Room 17?” He remained silent.
That silence was an answer in itself.
Finally…
He said, “Vena…” “Some questions are dangerous because you don’t know who will hear the answers.” Then he walked away.
I watched him disappear into the crowd.
— I slowly sat back down.
My hands were trembling slightly.
There was now another piece of the puzzle.
AE-17.
AH-27.
Anand Estate.
Anand House.
The service block.
And a hidden collection containing documents about a family whose names had been deliberately removed.
But one question kept returning.
Why had someone sent **me** the key?
Why had someone wanted **me** to find Room 17?
And most importantly…
What connection did I have to the Anand family?
Before I could think further…
My phone vibrated.
I looked down.
Another message from the unknown number.
“Now you understand why I told you not to bring the key.” I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
“Because if Rao sees it…” The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally…
“…he’ll know exactly who you are.” I stared at the message.
My fingers went cold.
Who I am?
What exactly did that mean?
Did Mr.
Rao know my biological family?
Did he know something about my past?
Or…
Was the person behind these messages simply trying to frighten me?
I didn’t know.
And that uncertainty was becoming unbearable.
I quickly locked my phone.
I looked around.
Everyone was still busy with the exhibition.
Nobody had noticed anything.
Except…
Arther.
He was standing several steps away, watching me.
Our eyes met.
He walked over.
“Something happened?” I shook my head.
“No.” He didn’t look convinced.
“You’ve said that three times today.” I gave him a small smile.
“Maybe I’m just bad at explaining things.” He smiled faintly.
“Fair enough.” Then he looked toward the corridor.
“Is it about that place?” I followed his gaze.
The archive section.
“Maybe.” He was quiet for a moment.
Then said, “You don’t have to tell me.” I looked at him.
“But if you’re investigating something…” He paused.
“Don’t investigate it alone.” I didn’t know what to say.
So I simply nodded.
“Okay.” The group was called together again.
Professor Mehta announced, “We’ll have lunch in the courtyard.” Everyone began moving.
I followed them.
But before leaving…
I glanced toward the staff corridor.
Mr.
Rao was standing there.
He was speaking to a librarian.
Then he looked directly at me.
His eyes moved toward my backpack.
For one terrifying second…
I thought he knew.
I instinctively held the strap tighter.
Then he looked away.
Outside…
The courtyard was bright and peaceful.
Trees surrounded the old library building.
Students sat on benches, talking and eating.
It was strange.
The world looked completely normal.
While my entire understanding of my own life was slowly changing.
I opened the lunch box my mother had packed.
Kabir immediately noticed.
“What’s that?” “My lunch.” “Can I have some?” “No.” He looked offended.
“Friendship means sharing.” “Then share yours first.” He looked at his own food.
“Mine is less interesting.” Riya laughed.
“You were just trying to steal hers.” “Borrow.” “You never return anything.” “Details.” I laughed despite myself.
For a few minutes…
I forgot the mystery.
I was just Vena.
A first-year college student.
Sitting with her friends.
Eating lunch.
Nothing more.
Then my phone vibrated again.
I checked it.
Unknown Number.
“Do not trust the folder.” My smile disappeared.
I typed: What folder?
The reply came instantly.
“AE-17.” I stared at the screen.
So they knew.
They had seen me find it.
Or…
They had been watching.
I typed: Who are you?
This time the answer came.
“Someone who knew your family before you did.” My heart stopped.
I read it again.
Your family.
Not the Anand family.
Not your biological family.
Just…
your family.
My hands tightened around the phone.
I typed: What do you know about them?
The typing indicator appeared.
Then disappeared.
No answer.
“Vena?” Ananya looked at me.
“You okay?” I quickly locked the phone.
“Yeah.” She frowned.
“You look pale.” “I’m fine.” This time…
She didn’t believe me.
But she didn’t force me to talk.
After lunch…
Professor Mehta announced that students could spend some time in the reading hall.
I followed the group.
But my thoughts were somewhere else.
The black folder.
AE-17.
The unknown person.
My family.
And the key waiting at home.
Inside the reading hall…
I noticed something strange.
The display cabinet containing old family records had been locked.
A small paper had been placed on it.
TEMPORARILY CLOSED FOR CATALOGUING I stared at it.
Earlier…
It had been open.
Now it was closed.
Why?
Because of the missing register?
Or because someone had discovered that I was looking?
Mr.
Rao walked past me.
He stopped.
“Vena.” I turned.
“Yes?” “You asked about Room 17 earlier.” I nodded.
“I remember.” “Forget about it.” His voice was unusually serious.
I stared at him.
“Why?” “Because it’s not part of today’s visit.” “But if it’s related to the archive…” “It isn’t your responsibility.” I wanted to ask him more.
Instead, I asked the one thing that mattered.
“Do you know who I am?” Silence.
Mr.
Rao looked at me.
For several seconds…
He said nothing.
Then…
“You’re a student.” My heart sank.
“That’s not what I meant.” “I know.” His expression softened slightly.
“Vena…” “Sometimes knowing something too early can cause more harm than not knowing it at all.” I frowned.
“That sounds like another warning.” “Maybe it is.” He walked away.
I watched him disappear.
I didn’t know what hurt more.
The fact that he knew something…
Or the fact that he refused to tell me.
The field visit continued until afternoon.
Eventually, Professor Mehta announced it was time to leave.
Everyone gathered near the entrance.
I looked back at the library one last time.
The old stone building stood quietly behind us.
Nothing about it looked dangerous.
Yet inside…
There was a room numbered 17.
A missing register.
A hidden collection.
And possibly…
A connection to my own family.
As I boarded the bus…
My phone vibrated one final time.
I checked it.
One message.
“You have one more chance.” I frowned.
Another message arrived.
“When you return home…” I waited.
Then: “Check the drawer where you keep old photographs.” My heart skipped.
I had never told anyone about that drawer.
Not even my friends.
I slowly looked out the bus window.
The library was getting farther away.
For the first time…
I wasn’t wondering whether the mystery was connected to my family.
I was wondering…
How much had someone already known about me?
The question followed me all the way home.
The bus was noisy.
Kabir was arguing with Riya about who had eaten more snacks.
Ananya was showing everyone the photographs she had taken during the trip.
Even Arther was occasionally joining the conversation.
But I barely heard any of it.
My mind remained stuck on that final message.
Check the drawer where you keep old photographs.
How could the unknown person know about that drawer?
That wasn’t something people normally knew.
The drawer was in my room.
It contained old family photographs, school certificates, birthday cards, and a few things my parents had kept from my childhood.
Nothing mysterious.
At least…
That’s what I had always believed.
— The bus finally reached college.
Everyone started getting down.
Kabir stretched his arms.
“That was exhausting.” Riya stared at him.
“We mostly walked.” “Exactly.” “Walking is exhausting.” Ananya laughed.
“You’re impossible.” I smiled.
Normally, I would have stayed with them for a while.
Today…
I wanted to go home.
Immediately.
— “Vena.” I turned.
Arther was standing beside me.
“You seem distracted.” “I’m just tired.” He nodded.
Then looked at me carefully.
“Something happened at the library.” It wasn’t a question.
I hesitated.
“Maybe.” He waited.
I looked at him.
There was no pressure in his expression.
Just concern.
“I’ll tell you if I figure it out.” He nodded.
“Okay.” Then he stepped aside.
“Take care.” “You too.” I walked toward the exit.
— The moment I reached home…
I went straight to my room.
I closed the door.
Then stood there for several seconds.
The room was exactly as I had left it.
My books were on the desk.
My bag was near the chair.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
I walked toward the old wooden drawer.
My hand stopped above the handle.
I suddenly felt nervous.
What if there was nothing?
What if the message was just another attempt to manipulate me?
Or worse…
What if there was something?
I slowly opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Old birthday pictures.
School functions.
Family trips.
My childhood.
I began searching through them.
Nothing unusual.
Then I reached the bottom.
A small envelope was tucked beneath the photographs.
I frowned.
I had never seen it before.
It was plain white.
No name.
No address.
No stamp.
Only one small mark in the corner.
17.
My heart stopped.
— I carefully picked it up.
The envelope wasn’t sealed.
Inside was a photograph.
I pulled it out.
At first…
I didn’t understand what I was looking at.
It was an old photograph of a large house.
The image was faded.
The building looked familiar.
Very familiar.
My eyes widened.
Anand House.
I turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
“Before the name was changed.” I stared at the words.
Before the name was changed?
Changed from what?
— I looked at the photograph again.
Something was different.
The building wasn’t exactly the same as the one I’d seen in the library photograph.
There was another section attached to the side.
A balcony.
A large wooden door.
And beside it…
A small plaque.
I zoomed in using my phone camera.
The image became blurry.
But I could still make out two letters.
A.H.
My heartbeat increased.
The same initials as the brass key.
— I searched the drawer again.
Maybe there was another photograph.
Something else.
I found a small stack tied with an old ribbon.
I opened it.
The first few pictures were ordinary.
My parents.
Me as a child.
A family celebration.
Then…
A photograph I had never seen before.
I froze.
It showed my adoptive parents standing outside a house.
But they weren’t alone.
There was another person standing beside them.
A man.
His face was partly turned away from the camera.
I didn’t recognize him.
I looked at the date written on the back.
Seventeen years ago.
My breathing became shallow.
I was only a child then.
Why had I never seen this photograph?
— I turned it over again.
There was another handwritten line.
“The agreement was made before she came home.” My eyes widened.
Agreement?
What agreement?
And who was she?
Me?
I looked at the photograph again.
My adoptive parents.
A stranger.
An unknown house.
And a sentence suggesting that something had been decided before I came into their family.
— My phone suddenly rang.
I jumped.
It was my mother.
“Vena?” “Yes?” “You’re home?” “Yes.” “Everything okay?” I looked at the photograph in my hand.
“Mom…” “Yes?” I hesitated.
“Did you ever visit Anand House?” There was silence.
Not long.
Only a few seconds.
But I noticed it.
Then she asked, “Why are you asking?” My heart began beating faster.
“I saw the name during the field visit.” Another pause.
Then her voice became careful.
“No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “We’ve never been there.” I looked at the photograph again.
She was standing outside that house.
But she had just told me…
She had never been there.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Okay.” “Why are you asking?” “Nothing.” “I’ll tell you later.” I ended the call.
— I stared at the photograph.
Something was wrong.
Either the photograph wasn’t what I thought…
Or my mother hadn’t told me the truth.
And I didn’t want to believe the second possibility.
Not after everything I had already lost.
I placed the photograph on my desk.
Then opened the envelope again.
There was something else inside.
A tiny piece of paper.
Only one line.
“Your parents didn’t find you by accident.” I couldn’t move.
The room suddenly felt silent.
My adoptive parents had always told me that they chose me.
That they wanted me.
That I was their daughter.
I had never questioned it.
But this message suggested something completely different.
Maybe there had been a reason.
Maybe someone had arranged it.
Maybe my entire childhood had begun with a secret I knew nothing about.
— I immediately thought about Nikhil.
His words.
His accusations.
The claim that my adoptive parents’ love had been fake.
I had refused to believe him.
And I still refused to accept his words as truth.
Because love wasn’t something I could erase simply because someone had made an accusation.
But now…
There was something I couldn’t ignore.
Evidence.
A photograph.
A hidden envelope.
A mysterious message.
And a possible connection to Anand House.
This didn’t prove that my parents had lied about loving me.
But it did prove…
There was something about my arrival into their family that I didn’t know.
— I picked up my phone.
There were no new messages.
For once…
The unknown person was silent.
I looked at the photograph again.
The stranger standing beside my adoptive parents remained partially hidden.
I wanted to know his identity.
I wanted to know what agreement had been made.
And I wanted to know why the number 17 kept appearing.
Then I noticed something in the corner of the photograph.
A small symbol.
Almost invisible.
A circle…
With a line through its center.
My eyes narrowed.
I had seen that symbol before.
Not in the library.
Not in my childhood photographs.
But somewhere else.
I opened my notebook and searched through the pages.
Then I found it.
The same symbol had appeared beside the **AE-17** collection.
My hands went still.
The symbol wasn’t random.
It connected the photograph…
The Anand Estate…
And whatever had happened before I came into my adoptive parents’ lives.
I slowly closed the notebook.
For the first time…
I wasn’t searching for my biological family anymore.
I was searching for the truth about **how I became Vena**.
And somewhere inside that truth…
There was a person who had known the answer long before I ever thought to ask.
The room was completely silent.
I kept staring at the symbol in the corner of the photograph.
A circle…
With a line through its center.
The same symbol I had seen beside AE-17.
I opened my notebook again.
My hands moved quickly through the pages until I found the notes I had written at the library.
AE-17 — Anand Estate.
AH-27 — Anand House.
Service Block — 17.
And now…
The symbol.
I drew it carefully beside my notes.
Then something strange happened.
The symbol on the photograph…
Wasn’t exactly the same.
There was a tiny mark beneath the circle.
I hadn’t noticed it before.
I looked closer.
It almost looked like a letter.
R.
I stared at it.
R.
What did it mean?
A person’s name?
A family?
A code?
I didn’t know.
I picked up my phone and photographed the old picture.
Then zoomed in.
The stranger standing beside my adoptive parents was still impossible to identify.
His face was turned away.
Almost deliberately.
Whoever had taken the photograph…
Hadn’t captured his face clearly.
Or maybe…
Someone had made sure it wasn’t captured.
I turned the photograph over again.
The sentence remained: “The agreement was made before she came home.” I whispered, “Who made the agreement?” No answer.
Of course.
I was alone.
I suddenly heard footsteps outside my room.
I quickly put the photograph back inside the envelope.
My mother knocked.
“Vena?” I froze.
“Yes?” “Can I come in?” “Yes.” She opened the door.
She looked at me for a moment.
“You’ve been quiet since you came home.” “I’m tired.” She smiled.
“Field visits are exhausting.” She noticed the open drawer.
“Looking through old photographs?” I nodded.
“Yes.” She walked closer.
For a moment…
Her eyes fell on the drawer.
Then on me.
“Did you find anything interesting?” My heart skipped.
I could have asked her.
Who was the man?
Why were you at Anand House?
What agreement was made before I came home?
But something stopped me.
Not fear.
Not distrust.
I simply wasn’t ready.
So I closed the drawer.
“Just old pictures.” She nodded.
“Okay.” Then she placed a glass of water on my desk.
“Get some rest.” “Thanks, Mom.” She smiled.
“Good night.” She left.
The door closed.
I stared at it.
My mother hadn’t looked suspicious.
But she had been careful.
Very careful.
I waited until I heard her footsteps disappear downstairs.
Then I opened the drawer again.
The envelope was still there.
But now…
I noticed something I had missed.
There was a second photograph underneath the first.
I slowly pulled it out.
My heart stopped.
It was a photograph of me.
As a child.
But the date on the back was strange.
Three months before the date my parents said I came home.
I stared at it.
That couldn’t be right.
I checked the date again.
Then again.
The photograph showed me standing in front of a building.
An old building.
And behind me…
Was the same symbol.
The same circle.
The same line.
The same tiny R beneath it.
My hands began trembling.
How could there be a photograph of me…
Before I had supposedly become part of my adoptive family?
I turned the photograph over.
There was another sentence.
Only four words.
“She was there before.” I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
Before what?
Before I was adopted?
Before my parents met me?
Before my life as Vena?
The questions multiplied.
Then my phone vibrated.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown Number.
One message.
“Now you understand.” I immediately typed: Understand what?
The reply came.
“Your parents didn’t lie about loving you.” I stared at the message.
Another appeared.
“But they lied about how they found you.” My heart sank.
So the unknown person was saying…
My parents’ love could still be real.
But the story of how I came into their family wasn’t.
That distinction mattered.
Because it meant Nikhil could have been wrong about one thing…
While still knowing something about my past.
I typed: Who was the man in the photograph?
The reply took longer this time.
Then finally: “Ask your father.” I stared at those words.
My father.
The person I had just seen downstairs.
The person who had always protected me.
The person who had never given me a reason to question him.
I looked toward the door.
Could I really ask him?
Before I could decide…
Another message appeared.
“But don’t show him the second photograph.” My eyes widened.
Why?
I typed.
No answer.
I waited.
Nothing.
Then…
The screen went dark.
I slowly looked down at the photograph of my younger self.
A strange feeling settled inside me.
The mystery wasn’t simply about my biological family anymore.
It was about my beginning.
About the time before I could remember.
About the people who had known me before I knew them.
And somewhere in those missing years…
Someone had made a decision that changed my entire life.
I placed both photographs inside my notebook.
Then closed it.
Tomorrow…
I would ask my father about Anand House.
But I wouldn’t show him the second photograph.
Not yet.
Because if the unknown person was telling the truth…
Then there was one question I needed answered first.
Why was I photographed at Anand House before I was supposedly brought home?
And more importantly…
Who was I with when that photograph was taken?
First, I want to apologize for not publishing yesterday.
I wasn’t able to upload because of some family reasons.
Thank you for your patience and understanding.
And now…
we’re back to the story!
Chapter 23 brought Vena one step closer to the truth.
The field visit was supposed to be a normal college trip…
But instead, Vena discovered: •Room 17 •The missing Anand Estate register •The AE-17 collection •A mysterious symbol •An old photograph of her adoptive parents •And most importantly…
a photograph of Vena from before she supposedly came into her adoptive family.
And there’s one thing I especially want you to remember: Nikhil said her adoptive parents’ love was fake.
But the truth may be much more complicated than that.
Maybe their love was real…
But the story they told Vena about how they found her wasn’t.
So now the biggest question is: Who was with young Vena before she came home?
And why does Room 17 keep appearing everywhere?
The mystery is getting deeper…
Keep reading.
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