(Vena’s POV) I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes…
I saw the same photograph.
A little girl standing in front of Anand House.
A symbol behind her.
And a date that shouldn’t have existed.
Three months before I supposedly came home.
I had spent hours trying to convince myself that there had to be a simple explanation.
Maybe the date was wrong.
Maybe the photograph belonged to someone else.
Maybe someone had written the wrong date on the back.
Maybe the unknown person was manipulating me.
There were hundreds of possibilities.
But one thing remained unchanged.
The photograph existed.
And it was a photograph of me.
Morning sunlight entered through my curtains.
I opened my eyes.
For a few seconds…
I forgot everything.
Then I remembered.
The envelope.
The photographs.
My father.
The question I had decided to ask.
I sat up slowly.
Today…
I would talk to him.
Not about everything.
Not yet.
Just one question.
Had he ever been to Anand House?
If he said no…
Then I would show him the first photograph.
If he admitted it…
I would ask why.
But the second photograph?
No.
I wasn’t ready to show that one.
Not until I understood who had taken it.
I got ready for college and went downstairs.
My mother was preparing breakfast.
“You’re awake early.” “I couldn’t sleep properly.” She looked at me.
“Still tired from yesterday?” “Maybe.” My father was sitting at the dining table, reading something on his phone.
I looked at him.
He noticed.
“What?” “Nothing.” I sat down.
My mother placed breakfast in front of me.
“Eat.” I nodded.
But I barely touched it.
My mind kept returning to the same question.
How do I ask without making him suspicious?
“Vena?” My father looked at me again.
“You’re unusually quiet.” I smiled.
“I’m just thinking about something.” “College?” “Yes.” That wasn’t completely a lie.
He nodded and returned to his phone.
I stared at him.
He looked exactly the same as always.
The same calm expression.
The same familiar face.
The same person who had helped me whenever I needed him.
The same person I had called Dad for years.
How could I suddenly look at him and wonder whether he had hidden something from me?
I didn’t want to.
But the photograph had created a question that wouldn’t disappear.
After breakfast…
I went upstairs to get my bag.
I opened my notebook.
The first photograph was inside.
I looked at it again.
My adoptive parents stood outside Anand House.
Beside them was the unidentified man.
His face remained turned away.
I studied every detail.
The building.
The clothes.
The background.
Nothing.
Then I looked at the second photograph.
My younger self.
Same place.
Same symbol.
Different date.
I carefully placed the second photograph inside a separate section of my notebook.
I wouldn’t show it.
Not yet.
At college…
The first-year students were already gathering near the classroom.
Ananya waved when she saw me.
“Vena!” I walked over.
“Good morning.” “Good morning.” She smiled.
“You look tired.” “Didn’t sleep well.” “Still thinking about yesterday?” I hesitated.
“Maybe.” She laughed softly.
“You know, you don’t have to solve every mystery in one day.” I smiled.
“True.” Kabir suddenly appeared.
“Good news!” Riya followed him.
“Whatever it is, don’t believe him.” Kabir looked offended.
“Why does nobody trust me?” “Because you once told us the professor had cancelled a test.” “He had!” “He postponed it by one day.” “Same thing.” Ananya laughed.
I couldn’t help smiling.
For a few minutes…
Everything felt normal.
The first lecture began.
I opened my notebook.
But instead of writing the lecture…
I wrote one sentence.
Ask Dad about Anand House.
I stared at it.
Then crossed it out.
I wrote again.
Did Dad ever visit Anand House?
That sounded safer.
I underlined it.
Then closed the notebook.
During the break…
I checked my phone.
No messages.
For some reason…
I was relieved.
The unknown person had been sending messages constantly.
Their silence felt strange.
Maybe they wanted me to think.
Maybe they were waiting for my next move.
Or maybe…
They had already done what they wanted.
They had put doubt into my mind.
Arther walked past my desk.
“You okay?” I nodded.
“Yes.” He looked at my notebook.
“You’ve been writing a lot.” “Just notes.” He smiled.
“Yesterday you barely wrote anything.” “Today I’m catching up.” He nodded.
“Good.” Then he walked away.
I watched him for a second.
There was something comforting about having someone around who didn’t constantly demand answers.
After college…
I returned home earlier than usual.
My father was in the living room.
Perfect.
I stood near the doorway.
“Dad?” He looked up.
“Yes?” “Can I ask you something?” “Of course.” I walked closer.
My heart was beating faster.
I had imagined this conversation many times.
But now that it was actually happening…
I couldn’t find the right words.
He noticed my hesitation.
“What happened?” “Nothing.” I took a breath.
“Have you ever been to Anand House?” His expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
His eyes stopped moving.
His hand became still.
Then…
He asked quietly, “Why are you asking?” My heart sank.
That wasn’t the answer I expected.
I tried to remain calm.
“We went to the Central Research Library yesterday.” “They had old records about Anand Estate.” He said nothing.
I continued.
“I saw the name.” Another pause.
Then he looked away.
“Vena…” “What?” “Where did you hear about Anand House?” His voice was different now.
More careful.
I swallowed.
“At the library.” He looked back at me.
“Did someone mention it to you?” “I saw it in an old record.” He stood up.
For a moment…
Neither of us spoke.
Then he asked: “What exactly did you see?” I could feel my courage disappearing.
This wasn’t going the way I had imagined.
I had expected a simple yes or no.
Instead…
He was asking questions.
Questions that made me wonder what he was afraid I might know.
“Dad…” I reached into my notebook.
My fingers touched the photograph.
I could show him.
I could put everything on the table.
But then I remembered the unknown person’s warning.
Don’t show him the second photograph.
I wasn’t going to.
But I could still show him the first.
I pulled it out.
His eyes fell on the photograph.
And the moment he saw it…
His face went completely still.
No confusion.
No surprise.
No hesitation.
He recognized it.
My heart dropped.
“Dad…” He slowly took the photograph from my hand.
His fingers tightened around its edges.
For several seconds…
He didn’t say anything.
Then he whispered: “Where did you get this?” I stared at him.
“You know this place.” He didn’t answer.
“You’ve been there.” Still nothing.
I stepped closer.
“And you know the man standing beside you.” His eyes lifted toward mine.
There was something in them I’d never seen before.
Fear.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for me.
“Vena…” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“You shouldn’t have found this.” My heart pounded.
“Why?” He looked at the photograph again.
Then toward the closed door.
As if he wanted to make sure nobody else could hear.
Finally…
He said: “Because the person you’re looking for…” He stopped.
My breathing froze.
“Who?” He looked directly at me.
And before he could finish…
The doorbell rang.
Ding…
dong.
We both turned toward the entrance.
My father immediately hid the photograph behind his back.
His expression changed.
“Stay here.” “Why?” He didn’t answer.
He walked toward the door.
I watched him go.
And suddenly…
I had a terrible feeling.
The person standing outside…
Wasn’t here to visit my father.
They were here because of me.
Ding…
dong.
The doorbell rang again.
I stood frozen in the living room.
My father had already reached the entrance.
But before opening the door…
He looked back at me.
“Vena, go upstairs.” His voice was unusually firm.
I frowned.
“Why?” “Just go.” “Dad, who is it?” “I’ll handle it.” Something about his expression made me stop arguing.
He slipped the photograph into his pocket.
Then opened the door.
I couldn’t see the person standing outside.
My father stepped partly into the doorway, blocking my view.
“Why are you here?” A man’s voice answered.
“I need to speak with you.” I couldn’t recognize the voice.
My father immediately replied, “Not here.” There was a pause.
Then the man said quietly, “It’s about Vena.” My heart stopped.
I took one step forward.
My father looked back at me.
His expression told me everything.
He hadn’t expected that.
I moved closer to the hallway.
“Who is it, Dad?” The visitor became silent.
Then…
He said my name.
“Vena.” I froze.
He knew me.
My father immediately stepped outside and pulled the door almost closed behind him.
I couldn’t hear their conversation clearly anymore.
Only fragments.
“…you shouldn’t have come.” “…she found the photograph.” My heart pounded.
The photograph.
How did he know?
I moved closer to the door.
Then I heard my father’s voice.
“You promised.” The man answered, “I know.” “You were never supposed to contact her.” “I didn’t.” “Then why does she have it?” Silence.
I couldn’t hear the answer.
I stepped back.
My mind was racing.
My father had made a promise.
To whom?
And about me?
I looked toward the front door.
The conversation continued outside.
Then the visitor said something that made my entire body go still.
“She is already asking about Anand House.” My father replied, “She was bound to find out eventually.” “Not like this.” “Then tell me what I’m supposed to do.” A long silence followed.
Then the man said: “Keep her away from Room 17.” My breath caught.
Room 17.
Again.
Why was everyone telling me to stay away from it?
I couldn’t stand there anymore.
I opened the door.
Both men turned toward me.
My father looked shocked.
The visitor…
I couldn’t see his face clearly.
He was wearing a dark jacket and had his back partly turned toward me.
But something about him felt familiar.
Not his face.
His voice.
I had heard it somewhere before.
But where?
“Vena…” My father stepped toward me.
I looked at the stranger.
“Who are you?” He didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked at my father.
“You didn’t tell her.” My father shook his head.
“I was going to.” “When?” “She needs time.” The stranger looked at me again.
“Time is exactly what she doesn’t have.” My heart tightened.
“What does that mean?” He finally faced me properly.
I still couldn’t recognize him.
But his eyes were serious.
“You shouldn’t be asking these questions.” I frowned.
“Everyone keeps saying that.” “Maybe because they’re trying to protect you.” “From what?” He didn’t answer.
I looked at my father.
“Dad?” He lowered his eyes.
That hurt more than anything.
I had always believed that if I asked him something…
He would tell me the truth.
Now he was standing in front of me…
And refusing to speak.
The stranger took a small step backward.
“I should go.” I immediately said, “Wait.” He stopped.
“Did you know me before I came into this family?” Silence.
My father looked at him.
The stranger didn’t answer.
I asked again.
“Did you know me?” Finally…
He said quietly, “Yes.” My heart dropped.
My father closed his eyes for a moment.
I felt as if the floor had shifted beneath me.
“You knew me?” The man nodded.
“Before you came here.” “How?” He looked toward my father.
“Ask him.” Then he turned to leave.
I stepped forward.
“Wait!” But he was already walking away.
I looked at my father.
“You know him.” He didn’t deny it.
“Who is he?” My father’s voice was quiet.
“Someone from a part of your life you don’t remember.” I stared at him.
“What part?” He didn’t answer.
The door closed.
I stood there silently.
My father remained near the entrance.
For the first time…
He looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
“Dad…” He looked at me.
“Tell me the truth.” He took a slow breath.
“I will.” “When?” “Tonight.” My heart skipped.
“Tonight?” He nodded.
“But you have to promise me something.” “What?” “No matter what I tell you…” “You cannot go looking for answers by yourself.” I frowned.
“Why?” “Because the people connected to your past aren’t all interested in protecting you.” I thought of Nikhil.
The unknown messages.
Room 17.
The photograph.
“Who are they?” He didn’t answer.
Instead…
He looked toward the staircase.
Then said, “Go upstairs.” I stared at him.
“Why?” “Because I need to make a phone call.” “To whom?” He hesitated.
Then finally said: “Someone I haven’t spoken to in years.” I went upstairs.
But I didn’t close my bedroom door completely.
I sat at my desk.
My thoughts were spinning.
My father knew.
The stranger knew.
And apparently…
They had both known me before I became part of this family.
I opened my notebook.
The first photograph lay between the pages.
I looked at it again.
My adoptive parents.
The unknown man.
Anand House.
And now…
A new piece of information.
Someone from my forgotten past was still alive.
Then I heard my father’s voice downstairs.
He was on the phone.
I couldn’t make out every word.
But one sentence reached me clearly.
“She has the photograph.” A pause.
Then: “No.” Another pause.
His voice became tense.
“She hasn’t seen the second one.” I froze.
Second one.
My father knew about the second photograph.
The photograph I had hidden.
The photograph he was never supposed to know existed.
Or…
Maybe he had known all along.
I slowly stood up.
Then I heard him say: “That’s why we need to find her before they do.” My blood ran cold.
Find who?
And then…
A final sentence reached my ears.
“Because if Vena remembers what happened that day…” He stopped.
The call continued in silence.
I stood completely still.
There was something about my childhood that everyone was afraid I would remember.
Something connected to Anand House.
Something connected to Room 17.
And apparently…
Something that could change everything I believed about my own past.”Because if Vena remembers what happened that day…” My father’s sentence remained in my mind.
What happened that day?
What day?
The day I came into their family?
The day the photograph was taken?
Or…
Something that happened before either of those?
I stood near my bedroom door, listening.
The phone conversation downstairs had ended.
A few seconds later, I heard footsteps.
My father was coming upstairs.
I quickly returned to my desk and opened my notebook.
The door opened.
He looked at me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked quietly, “You heard me?” I didn’t lie.
“Yes.” His expression changed.
“I’m sorry.” “Sorry for what?” He sat down on the chair opposite me.
“For keeping things from you.” I looked directly at him.
“Then tell me.” He lowered his eyes.
“I will.” “Now?” He nodded.
“Now.” — My heart was beating hard.
He took a deep breath.
“The man who came here…” “Who is he?” “His name is Hari.” I froze.
Hari.
I remembered the name.
He had been mentioned before.
But there was something strange about the way my father said it.
“You knew him before?” “Yes.” “How long?” “A very long time.” I waited.
He continued.
“Hari was involved with your family before you came to us.” I stared at him.
“My biological family?” He nodded.
“Yes.” The word hit me harder than I expected.
I had spent so long wondering about them.
Now…
Someone who knew them had actually stood at our front door.
“What did he do?” My father paused.
“He was responsible for protecting certain information.” “What information?” “Things concerning your family.” I frowned.
“That’s too vague.” “I know.” “Then tell me the truth.” He looked at me.
“I don’t know everything.” I stared at him.
“You don’t?” “No.” He took another breath.
“There were things I was told never to ask about.” “By whom?” He didn’t answer immediately.
Then: “By people who believed keeping you away from the truth would keep you safe.” — I looked down at my hands.
“So my whole life…” I struggled to finish.
“Was based on a secret?” My father shook his head immediately.
“No.” “Then what was it?” “Your life with us was real.” His voice was firm now.
“Everything we gave you…” “Every birthday.” “Every school function.” “Every time you were sick.” “Every time you needed us.” “None of that was fake.” My eyes stung.
I thought of Nikhil’s words.
Your adopted parents never truly loved you.
I had refused to believe him.
And now my father was saying exactly what I needed to hear.
But there was still something missing.
“Then why did you hide how you found me?” He looked away.
“Because we were afraid.” “Of my biological family?” “Not exactly.” “Then who?” He was silent.
That silence told me enough.
“There was someone else.” My father finally nodded.
“Yes.” “Who?” “We didn’t know who they were.” “That’s why you kept the secret?” “Partly.” “What’s the other reason?” He looked at me.
“Because you weren’t supposed to be found.” I felt a chill.
“By whom?” “We didn’t know.” “Then how did you find me?” He didn’t answer.
“Dad.” He closed his eyes briefly.
“We were contacted.” “By whom?” “A man.” “Who?” “I never learned his real name.” My heart raced.
“Was it the man in the photograph?” “No.” “Then who?” My father hesitated.
“He called himself The Custodian.” The room went silent.
I repeated the word.
“The Custodian?” He nodded.
“He gave us instructions.” “What instructions?” “To take care of you.” My eyes widened.
“Why?” “Because he said your life depended on it.” — I couldn’t speak.
A person calling himself The Custodian had apparently arranged my arrival into this family.
But why?
What was special about me?
I thought about the mysterious key.
The symbol.
Room 17.
The Anand Estate.
The photograph.
Everything seemed connected.
“Did he tell you who my biological parents were?” “No.” “Did he tell you where I came from?” “No.” “Then what did he tell you?” My father looked directly at me.
“He told us only one thing.” “What?” “Never let anyone take you back.” My heartbeat stopped.
“Take me back?” He nodded.
“Back where?” “I don’t know.” “You never asked?” “We couldn’t.” “Why?” “Because after that…” He paused.
“People started watching us.” I stared at him.
“Watching us?” “Yes.” “For years?” “Yes.” Suddenly, many small things from my childhood felt different.
The times my father had changed schools.
The times he had suddenly cancelled trips.
The way my parents had always been cautious about sharing our address.
I had thought they were simply protective.
Maybe…
They had been afraid.
— I whispered, “Was Nikhil involved?” My father’s expression hardened.
“I don’t know.” “Do you know his family?” “No.” “Then why does he know so much?” “That’s what frightens me.” I looked at him.
“What do you mean?” My father stood.
“Because some of the things he told you…” He stopped.
“Some of them shouldn’t be known by anyone outside our family.” My heart dropped.
“So Nikhil knows something.” “Possibly.” “About me?” “Yes.” “About my past?” “Maybe.” I stared at him.
Then one thought came to me.
“Room 17.” My father immediately looked at me.
His reaction was instant.
Too instant.
“You know about it?” His face changed.
“Where did you hear that name?” “The library.” He went silent.
“There’s a room marked 17 in the archive.” He stared at me.
“Vena…” “Is it connected to my past?” He didn’t answer.
“Please.” His eyes softened.
“I don’t know.” “You do know something.” “I know that you should stay away from it.” “Why?” “Because Room 17 isn’t just a room.” I waited.
He looked toward the window.
Then said quietly: “It’s a place where records connected to your family were kept.” My heart pounded.
“Then why was the Anand Estate register moved?” His face went pale.
“You found the register?” “No.” “Then how do you know?” I realized my mistake.
I had said too much.
He stepped closer.
“Vena…” “What?” “Who has been talking to you?” I didn’t answer.
The unknown messages.
The warning.
The person who knew about the photographs.
I couldn’t tell him.
Not yet.
Because there was one thing I still couldn’t understand.
If my father was truly trying to protect me…
Why had someone warned me not to show him the second photograph?
And why did my father already know there was a second photograph?
— My father looked at me carefully.
“Someone is guiding you.” It wasn’t a question.
I remained silent.
He sighed.
“Whoever it is…” He looked frightened for the first time.
“Don’t trust them completely.” I swallowed.
“Why?” “Because anyone who knows this much about your past…” He paused.
“…has a reason for wanting you to find it.” He walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he turned back.
“Vena.” “Yes?” “Whatever you remember…” “Whatever you discover…” “Don’t assume the first person who tells you the truth is actually on your side.” The door closed.
I sat there silently.
My father’s words echoed in my head.
Don’t trust them completely.
I looked at my notebook.
Then at the hidden second photograph.
Slowly…
I pulled it out.
I turned it over.
The date was still there.
Three months before I supposedly came home.
And beneath it…
A new detail I hadn’t noticed before.
A tiny handwritten word.
Almost erased by time.
I brought it closer to the light.
My eyes widened.
It wasn’t a name.
It wasn’t a place.
It was a single word: RETURN.
I stared at it.
And suddenly…
The symbol beneath the photograph made sense.
The circle.
The line.
The tiny R.
It wasn’t just a mark.
It was a warning.
Or perhaps…
A command.
RETURN.
I stared at the word until my eyes began to hurt.
One simple word.
Yet somehow…
It felt like it belonged to me.
I traced the faded letters with my finger.
Why would someone write RETURN on a photograph of me?
Return where?
To whom?
And why?
I turned the photograph over again.
Nothing else.
No name.
No address.
No explanation.
Just that single word.
— My father’s warning came back to me.
“Don’t assume the first person who tells you the truth is actually on your side.” I placed the photograph back inside my notebook.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe the unknown person wasn’t helping me.
Maybe they were leading me somewhere.
But if that was true…
Why had they told me that my adoptive parents’ love wasn’t fake?
Why correct Nikhil’s accusation?
Unless…
They wanted me to trust my parents for a reason.
I shook my head.
Too many questions.
Not enough answers.
— I went downstairs.
My father was no longer in the living room.
“Mom?” No answer.
I checked the kitchen.
Empty.
Then I noticed a folded piece of paper on the dining table.
At first, I thought it was a grocery list.
I picked it up.
My heart stopped.
It wasn’t a grocery list.
It was an old photocopy.
At the top was a heading: ANAND ESTATE — TRANSFER RECORD I quickly looked around.
Nobody was there.
I read the first few lines.
Most of the names were faded.
Then I saw one familiar name.
Hari.
My eyes widened.
Hari had been connected to the Anand Estate.
But beneath his name was another entry.
Custodian — Temporary Authority I froze.
The Custodian.
The same title my father had mentioned.
I read the line again.
The document was old.
Very old.
But one thing was clear.
Hari wasn’t the Custodian.
He had worked **under** the Custodian.
Or at least…
That’s what the document suggested.
— I heard footsteps.
I immediately folded the paper.
My father entered the room.
He stopped when he saw me holding it.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get that?” “It was on the table.” He took the paper from my hand.
“Don’t read things you don’t understand.” I frowned.
“Then explain them.” He looked at the document.
“There’s nothing useful here.” “Hari’s name is there.” Silence.
“You know him.” “Yes.” “He came to our house.” “I know.” “He knew me before I came here.” My father’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.” “Then why did you never tell me?” “Because I wanted you to have a normal life.” I shook my head.
“Normal?” My voice cracked slightly.
“How can I have a normal life when everyone around me knows something about my past except me?” He looked hurt.
“I was trying to protect you.” “I know.” “But protecting me doesn’t mean keeping me completely in the dark.” He remained silent.
I lowered my voice.
“I need the truth.” He looked at me for a long moment.
Then said, “You’re right.” My heart skipped.
He placed the document on the table.
“There’s something you need to know about Hari.” — I waited.
“Hari wasn’t your teacher.” I frowned.
“What?” “Someone may have told you that.” “He said he didn’t know much about my family.” My father nodded.
“That’s partly true.” “Partly?” “Hari knew certain things.” “But not everything.” “Then why did he come here?” “Because he was told to watch over you.” I stared at him.
“Watch over me?” “From a distance.” “For how long?” “Until you were old enough to make your own decisions.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Who told him?” My father didn’t answer.
I already knew.
“The Custodian?” He nodded.
— I sat down.
“So there really was someone controlling all of this.” “Not controlling.” “Then what?” “Managing.” I looked at him.
“That’s the same thing.” “Not exactly.” “To me it is.” He sighed.
“The Custodian’s job was to protect a certain legacy.” “What legacy?” He hesitated.
“Yours.” My heart stopped.
“Mine?” He nodded.
“You were never just a child someone happened to take in.” The words made my chest tighten.
“Then what was I?” He immediately corrected himself.
“You were a child who needed protection.” “From whom?” “We didn’t know.” “Then why was I important?” “I don’t know.” “You’re saying you don’t know anything?” “I know enough to be afraid.” — I looked at the old document again.
Custodian — Temporary Authority.
“What does ‘Return’ mean?” My father’s expression changed.
“Where did you hear that word?” I didn’t answer.
He stepped closer.
“Vena.” “Why is everyone reacting to that word?” He looked away.
“Because it was used in the old records.” My heartbeat increased.
“What does it mean?” “It was associated with your family.” “How?” He took a breath.
“Your family believed that certain things could be lost…” “And later returned.” I frowned.
“Things?” “People.” I went completely still.
“People?” He nodded slowly.
“But that’s only part of the old story.” “What story?” He didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked toward the window.
“Your biological family had enemies.” I waited.
“They believed one day someone from your bloodline would return.” My heart pounded.
“Return to what?” “The place they came from.” I whispered, “Anand Estate?” He didn’t answer.
That silence was enough.
— I stood.
“So the word on my photograph…” “Could mean many things.” “Or it could mean I was supposed to return.” He looked at me.
“Maybe.” “Where?” He finally said: “That’s what I don’t want you to find out alone.” I stared at him.
“Why?” “Because the people who want you to return…” He paused.
“…may not want you to return safely.” — My phone vibrated.
I looked down.
Unknown Number.
One message: “Ask him what happened on the day you disappeared.” My heart stopped.
Disappeared?
I slowly looked up at my father.
He had seen my expression.
“What is it?” I locked the phone.
“Nothing.” But my mind was screaming.
I hadn’t simply been brought to my adoptive parents.
According to the message…
I had disappeared first.
I looked at my father.
“Did I ever disappear?” His face went pale.
He didn’t answer.
And that silence told me more than any message ever could.
My father’s silence felt heavier than any answer.
I stared at him.
“Did I ever disappear?” He looked away.
For several seconds…
Nothing.
Then he finally sat down.
“Yes.” The single word felt like a blow.
I couldn’t speak.
“How?” He rubbed his forehead.
“You were very young.” “How young?” “Four years old.” I froze.
Four.
I had almost no memories from that age.
Only fragments.
A garden.
Someone holding my hand.
A red ribbon.
A loud bell.
And…
A locked wooden door.
I had always assumed those were dreams.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
“What happened?” My father took a deep breath.
“You disappeared for several hours.” “Where?” “We didn’t know.” “Then how did you find me?” He looked at me.
“That is the part I never wanted you to remember.” My heart began pounding.
“Tell me.” — He folded his hands together.
“One afternoon, you were playing outside.” “Your mother was with you.” “You were in the garden.” “I remember that.” He looked surprised.
“You remember?” “Only a little.” “What do you remember?” I closed my eyes.
“A red ribbon.” “A tree.” “And…” I stopped.
Something else had surfaced.
A sound.
A bell.
One deep ring.
Then another.
I opened my eyes.
“There was a bell.” My father’s expression changed.
“How many times?” “I don’t know.” I thought harder.
“Seven.” He went completely still.
Seven.
The same number that had appeared in my strange dreams.
The same number connected to the symbol.
“Why?” He didn’t answer.
I whispered, “What happened after I disappeared?” — My father looked toward the window.
“Your mother thought you had gone into the house.” “But you weren’t there.” “We searched everywhere.” “Neighbors came.” “Everyone searched.” “And?” “After nearly four hours…” He stopped.
“Someone called us.” “Who?” “A man.” “The Custodian?” He nodded.
“He told us where you were.” My heart raced.
“Where?” “Near the old Anand property.” I stood completely still.
“Anand Estate?” “Yes.” I couldn’t breathe properly.
“So I was there?” “Yes.” “How?” “We don’t know.” “You don’t know?” “No.” “Did anyone see me?” “Hari did.” My eyes widened.
“Hari found me?” “Yes.” — I sat down slowly.
The pieces were coming together.
Hari.
Anand Estate.
The missing hours.
The photograph.
The word RETURN.
Room 17.
“Where exactly did Hari find me?” My father hesitated.
“Near the service block.” My heart stopped.
“Number 17?” He didn’t answer.
“Dad.” “Yes.” I closed my eyes.
So it was true.
The photograph of me at Anand House hadn’t been a mistake.
I had actually been there.
As a child.
Before I came home.
— “What was I doing there?” “We never found out.” “Was I hurt?” “No.” “Was I scared?” “According to Hari…” He paused.
“You were strangely calm.” I frowned.
“What does that mean?” “You weren’t crying.” “You weren’t injured.” “You were simply sitting there.” “Where?” “Outside the old service block.” I looked at the photograph in my notebook.
The same building.
The same symbol.
The same number.
“Did anyone else see me?” “No.” “Then who took the photograph?” My father didn’t answer.
I understood.
He didn’t know.
Or…
He knew and didn’t want to say.
— I opened my notebook.
I pulled out the second photograph.
This time…
I placed it on the table.
My father stared at it.
His face went pale.
“You weren’t supposed to have this.” “I know.” “Where did you get it?” “It was hidden in my old drawer.” He picked it up carefully.
His hands trembled.
“You knew about it?” He nodded.
“You knew this photograph existed?” “Yes.” My heart sank.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?” “Because we were told to destroy it.” “By whom?” He looked at me.
“The Custodian.” “Why?” “Because the photograph showed something we weren’t supposed to see.” I leaned closer.
“What?” He turned the photograph around.
The symbol was visible behind young me.
“That symbol.” “What does it mean?” He stared at it.
“It marks a protected location.” “Protected from whom?” “Everyone.” I frowned.
“That’s not an answer.” He sighed.
“The old families had places where certain records were kept.” “Anand Estate had one.” “Room 17.” My heartbeat increased.
“So the room wasn’t in the library?” “No.” “Then why did I see Room 17 in the library?” He looked confused.
“What do you mean?” I explained everything.
The old catalogue.
AE-17.
The missing register.
The archive.
The room marked 17.
His expression became increasingly serious.
“Vena…” “What?” “If someone has moved those records…” He stopped.
“Then someone is rebuilding the old archive.” I frowned.
“Why?” “I don’t know.” — My phone vibrated.
We both looked at it.
Another unknown message.
“Your father is telling you only half the truth.” I felt anger rising.
I typed: Then tell me the other half.
The reply appeared almost immediately.
“Ask him why he lied about the day you came home.” I looked at my father.
“What does that mean?” He didn’t answer.
I showed him the message.
His face changed.
“Who is sending these?” “I don’t know.” “How long?” “Since the library.” He stared at me.
“Vena…” “What?” “Don’t reply to them anymore.” “Why?” “Because they know too much.” I looked at the message again.
“Maybe they know more than you.” He flinched.
I immediately regretted saying it.
But I couldn’t take it back.
— He stood up.
“I need to tell you something.” “What?” “The day you came home…” He paused.
“You weren’t supposed to come home with us.” I stared at him.
“What?” “The original plan was different.” “What plan?” “You were supposed to stay with another family.” My heart dropped.
“Why?” “Because we thought it would be safer.” “Then why did I come to you?” “Because something happened.” “What?” He looked at me.
“Hari changed the plan.” “Why?” “Because he said someone was looking for you.” “Who?” “We never found out.” I swallowed.
“So Hari brought me here?” “Yes.” “And the Custodian allowed it?” “Eventually.” I looked down.
Everything I had believed about my childhood was changing.
Not because my parents didn’t love me.
But because…
There had been an entire story before I could remember.
A story other people had controlled.
A story they had decided I was too young to know.
— I whispered, “Did my biological parents know where I was?” My father closed his eyes.
“We don’t know.” “Did they look for me?” “We don’t know.” “Are they alive?” Silence.
My heart sank.
“Dad…” He finally looked at me.
“We never found out what happened to them.” I felt a strange emptiness.
For years…
I had imagined finding my biological family.
Now I realized I didn’t even know whether there was anyone left to find.
— My father gently pushed the photograph toward me.
“Vena…” “Yes?” “There is one thing you need to understand.” “What?” “You weren’t taken from your family.” I looked at him.
“You were hidden.” I couldn’t move.
“From whom?” He shook his head.
“We never learned.” Then his phone suddenly rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed instantly.
He answered.
“Hello?” Silence.
Then his face went pale.
“What?” I watched him carefully.
He stood up.
“How?” Another pause.
Then: “That’s impossible.” He looked at me.
His voice became barely audible.
“She’s here.” My heart stopped.
He listened to the person on the other end.
Then slowly said: “No…” His eyes moved toward the photograph.
“They found her.” The call ended.
I stood.
“Who found me?” He didn’t answer.
“Dad?” He looked at me with fear in his eyes.
Then said: “We need to leave.” “Why?” He grabbed the photograph.
“Because whoever has been searching for you…” He looked toward the windows.
“…knows where you live now.” “…knows where you live now.” I stared at my father.
For a moment, I couldn’t understand what he had said.
Then the meaning finally reached me.
Someone knew where I lived.
Someone was looking for me.
And now…
They had found me.
“Who?” My father’s eyes moved toward the windows.
“I don’t know.” “You just said they found me.” “I know.” “Then who are they?” “I don’t know, Vena.” His voice was tense.
“Then how do you know they found me?” He didn’t answer.
I stepped closer.
“Dad.” He looked at me.
“The person who called me said someone had been asking about you.” “Where?” “At the library.” My heart stopped.
“The library?” He nodded.
“Someone asked about your college.” “Did they give a name?” “No.” “Then how did they know about me?” He shook his head.
“I don’t know.” I felt a chill.
The library.
The missing register.
AE-17.
The unknown messages.
The person who knew about the photographs.
Everything was connected.
But I still didn’t know how.
— My father grabbed his phone again.
“We need to leave.” “Where?” “Somewhere safe.” “But Mom?” “She’ll come with us.” “Where is she?” He looked toward the kitchen.
“She went to the market.” I immediately reached for my phone.
“I’ll call her.” “No.” I stopped.
“Why?” “If someone is watching the house, we shouldn’t make unnecessary calls.” “But she needs to know.” “I’ll contact her.” He walked toward the window.
I followed.
Outside…
Everything looked normal.
A man walking down the street.
A woman carrying groceries.
A motorcycle passing by.
Nothing suspicious.
But after everything I’d learned…
Normal didn’t feel normal anymore.
— “Vena.” I turned.
My father was holding the old photograph.
“There’s something else.” “What?” He looked at it.
“The man standing beside us.” I waited.
“He wasn’t supposed to be there.” “What do you mean?” “He wasn’t part of the original arrangement.” “Then why was he there?” “I don’t know.” “Who is he?” My father shook his head.
“I never learned his real identity.” I stared at him.
“But you said you knew everyone involved.” “No.” He looked at the photograph again.
“I knew the people who were protecting you.” “That man wasn’t one of them.” My heartbeat increased.
“Then who was he?” “I don’t know.” “Could he be connected to my biological family?” “Possibly.” “Could he be the person who took me to Anand Estate?” “I don’t know.” Every answer was the same.
I don’t know.
I was beginning to hate those words.
— My father suddenly looked at the photograph more carefully.
Then he pointed at the background.
“Wait.” “What?” He zoomed in using his phone.
I leaned closer.
Behind the man…
Near the entrance of Anand House…
There was another figure.
A child.
Very small.
Almost hidden behind the doorway.
I stared.
“Is that…” My voice disappeared.
My father zoomed in further.
The image became blurry.
But there was no doubt.
It was a little girl.
With a red ribbon in her hair.
My heart stopped.
Me.
The same red ribbon from my fragmented memory.
I whispered, “I remember this.” My father looked at me.
“What?” “The ribbon.” I closed my eyes.
Suddenly…
A memory flashed.
A long corridor.
A wooden door.
Someone holding my hand.
A voice saying: “Don’t look back.” Then…
A bell.
One.
Two.
Three…
I opened my eyes.
My breathing was fast.
“Seven.” My father stared at me.
“What?” “The bell.” He went pale.
“You remember?” “Seven rings.” He slowly sat down.
I could see fear in his face.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
— “What happened after the seventh bell?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Dad.” He looked at me.
“You were standing outside Room 17.” My entire body went cold.
“Room 17?” He nodded.
“That’s where Hari found you.” “Then why was I there?” “We never knew.” “Who brought me?” “We don’t know.” “Why was I there?” “I don’t know.” I looked away.
My head hurt.
The memory was trying to come back.
But every time I reached for it…
It disappeared.
— Then my phone vibrated.
I looked down.
Unknown Number.
A single message.
“Don’t leave the house.” I stared at it.
A second message appeared.
“Your father is taking you exactly where they want you to go.” My eyes widened.
I showed my father.
He read the message.
His expression hardened.
“Delete it.” “No.” “Vena.” “I need to know who this is.” “You don’t know what they’re trying to do.” “Neither do you.” He became silent.
I typed: Who are “they”?
The reply came.
“The people who erased your name.” My heart stopped.
My name?
What did that mean?
I typed again.
**What name?** The answer came after several seconds.
“Vena was never the first name written in the record.” I stared at the screen.
My fingers went numb.
My father took the phone from my hand.
“Enough.” He deleted the message.
I looked at him.
“Why did you do that?” “Because they are trying to confuse you.” “Then tell me my original name.” Silence.
My father’s face changed.
I knew.
He knew.
There was an answer.
And he wasn’t ready to give it.
— Before I could ask again…
The lights suddenly went out.
The entire house fell dark.
I froze.
“Dad?” “I’m here.” He reached for my hand.
“Stay close.” Outside…
A car engine stopped.
Then another.
My father looked toward the window.
His expression became serious.
“Don’t move.” “Who is outside?” He didn’t answer.
A shadow passed across the curtain.
Then another.
My heart pounded.
My father quietly moved toward the door.
I whispered, “Dad…” He turned.
“Stay behind me.” A sound came from outside.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Nobody spoke.
Then a voice came through the door.
A voice I recognized.
My blood ran cold.
It was Hari.
“Open the door.” My father looked at me.
Hari spoke again.
His voice was urgent.
“Vena…” “Don’t trust anyone inside that house.” My eyes widened.
I looked at my father.
He looked shocked.
Then Hari said the words that made my heart stop: “Your father is not the one who brought you home.” Silence.
My father’s face went pale.
And before either of us could react…
A third voice came from behind us.
Soft.
Calm.
Almost familiar.
“He’s right.” I slowly turned around.
Someone was standing in the darkness of our house.
Chapter 24 was definitely a chapter full of questions…
and I think Vena has finally reached a point where she can’t ignore the truth anymore.
We learned that her childhood wasn’t as simple as she believed.
•Vena disappeared when she was only four.
•She was found near the old Anand Estate.
•Hari was involved in finding her.
•The mysterious Custodian was connected to her protection.
•The word “RETURN” has a deeper meaning.
•And there may have been another name written for Vena before she became Vena.
But the biggest question of this chapter is…
Who was actually responsible for bringing Vena into her adoptive family?
And that ending…
Hari says: “Your father is not the one who brought you home.” Then someone inside the house says: “He’s right.” So who is standing behind Vena and her father?
And why does this person already know the truth?
We’re getting closer to Vena’s past…
but I don’t think she’s ready for what she’s going to discover.
Thank you for reading and supporting the story!
And yes…
the mystery is only getting deeper.
I tagged this book, come and support me with a thumbs up!