Riyan and I froze at the faint sound of a door closing somewhere in the West Wing.
The walls seemed to breathe with us—
slow, tense, waiting.
Riyan turned toward the hallway, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Someone is still here."
A shiver crawled across my skin.
Just minutes ago, that person had been in this room.
Touching Arjun's bed.
Leaving messages for us.
Watching us.
Watching me.
Riyan moved immediately, his steps steady, controlled, but vibrating with fury beneath the surface.
"This way," he whispered. "Whoever was here didn't use the main corridor. They'd be seen."
He scanned the room again.
And then—
His eyes landed on the half-open window.
The broken lock.
The scratch marks along the frame.
The curtain slightly twisted around something at the corner.
He walked to the window slowly.
I followed.
"What happened?" I whispered.
He crouched, brushing his fingers over the curtain's edge.
A faint metallic clang sounded.
He pushed the curtain back—
And something shimmered beneath it.
A hook.
A small metal climbing hook attached to a nearly invisible black rope.
My breath stopped.
"They scaled the wall," Riyan murmured. "From outside."
He tugged lightly on the rope.
It didn't move.
"It's secured to something above," he said. "Something solid."
He stood and looked up.
The ceiling.
My stomach dropped.
"Riyan," I whispered, "is there… another floor?"
He hesitated.
Then nodded slowly.
"There's an attic level," he said. "But it hasn't been used in years. It's sealed."
I looked at the rope.
"It isn't sealed anymore."
Riyan exhaled sharply.
He grabbed the rope, testing its strength.
It held.
Then he turned to me, expression hardening.
"We're going up."
My eyes widened.
"What? Now?"
"Yes. Before whoever was there escapes."
Fear tightened around my chest.
"But what if someone is still—"
"That's exactly why we're going."
His voice softened, just slightly.
"I won't let anything happen to you."
My heart stumbled in my chest.
He didn't break his gaze as he offered his hand.
"Come with me."
I swallowed hard.
And took it.
He led me toward a narrow corner between the window and a tall wooden cabinet.
Something behind it glinted faintly—
a seam.
A thin outline.
Riyan touched the wall lightly.
There was a click.
The entire cabinet shifted with a deep groan, sliding a few inches away from the wall.
Behind it—
A hidden passage.
Cold, dark, dusty.
A staircase leading upward.
My breath caught.
"Why… why would this be hidden?" I whispered.
Riyan shook his head.
"No one told me about this. Not even my father."
He peered into the darkness, jaw tight.
"Someone used this passage recently. Look."
I followed his gaze.
Footprints in the dust.
Fresh.
Small.
Goosebumps covered my skin.
Riyan took a step forward.
I grabbed his sleeve instinctively.
"Riyan… wait."
He turned slightly.
His voice softened in a way that made my chest ache.
"Aarvi. I won't let anything touch you. You have my word."
Something inside me loosened.
Slowly… I nodded.
He turned on his phone flashlight and stepped into the hidden staircase. I stayed close behind him, the air growing colder with every step we climbed.
My heart pounded in my ears.
The passage twisted upward sharply—
a narrow wooden staircase
lined with peeling wallpaper
and faint scratch marks on the walls.
"Riyan…" I whispered, voice trembling, "someone has been using this often."
He nodded.
"These scratches are new."
Halfway up, the staircase opened into a cramped landing.
At the center was a door.
Old.
Dusty.
But unlocked.
Riyan hesitated only a moment before pushing it open.
The attic was dark except for one thing—
A lantern.
Still warm.
Still burning.
My blood ran cold.
"They were here," Riyan whispered, scanning the space. "Just minutes ago."
The attic was filled with old furniture covered in sheets, boxes stacked against the walls, and scattered papers across the floor—as if someone had been searching for something… or hiding something.
I stepped closer to the small table where the lantern sat.
And there, beside it—
A photograph.
Face-down.
My hand shook as I turned it over.
I stumbled back.
Riyan rushed to me.
"What is it?"
I handed him the photo with trembling fingers.
His eyes widened.
The photo was of Arjun.
Standing next to someone.
But the second person's face had been burned out.
Completely.
A small message was scribbled on the bottom:
"NOT EVERYONE WHO SMILES IS A FRIEND."
Riyan's breath caught.
"Aarvi…" His voice was a whisper of disbelief. "This was placed here for us."
I swallowed hard.
"But why? Who's sending us these messages? And why like this?"
Riyan looked around the attic, scanning every shadow.
Then he whispered something that chilled my bones.
"This person isn't running from us, Aarvi."
His eyes darkened.
"They're leading us—bit by bit—to the truth."
I shivered.
"But why?"
His answer was quiet.
"Because… whoever they are, they want us to know what really happened to Arjun."
A faint noise echoed from the staircase behind us.
A soft footstep.
Riyan grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him instantly.
The lantern flickered.
My breath hitched.
Someone was here.
Someone watching.
And this time—
They weren't trying to hide.