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𓃮 Inayah's pov 𓃮
Everyone carries secrets.
Some bury them in the corners of their mind, hoping they'll rot away.
I dragged mine into the darkness. Locked it behind a door.
Fed it, watched it wither, and prayed it would die eventually.
But secrets don't die.
They escape.
The night air clung to my skin like a second layer of suffocating flesh. My pulse thudded in my ears as I slipped out of the house, Arhaan's voice still echoing in my mind, asking if I wanted him to come with me.
I told him I was meeting Avni.
I lied.
The car ride blurred past, streetlights dragging golden streaks across the windshield like claw marks. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter every time I passed a dark alley or a woman walking alone - the echoes of my own footsteps from a lifetime ago crawling up my spine.
By the time I reached the small, abandoned property on the outskirts of Delhi, my chest was a locked vault of restless thunder. The housein front of me, hollow and skeletal, its windows like sunken eyes watching my every step.
I stepped inside. The wooden floorboards groaned, the sound swallowed by the house's quiet hunger.
The basement door stood where I left it - an iron slab with scratches around the hinges. I ran my fingers over the cold metal, The lock clicked open like it had been waiting for me.
I descended the stairs.
One by one.
Each step pulling me closer to the version of myself no one else knew.
The version I kept buried.
The basement smelled like rot. Like sweat, old paint, and the lingering staleness of forgotten things.
I liked it.
It smelled like control.
I traced my fingers along the stair railing, feeling the slight indentation of the wood. My fingers stilled. The groove was deeper than before. New.
My stomach twisted - not with fear, but with excitement.
I pressed my hand against the door before opening it, leaning in close like I was listening to the heartbeat of the house itself.
There was only one.
Mine.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, my boots scuffing against the concrete floor.
She was in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, her frail body wrapped in the same dirty clothes she'd worn for months. She barely lifted her head.
