The message stayed with me long after the screen went dark.
You took something from me today.
It didn't sound like rage.
It sounded like ownership.
I didn't show it to Riyan.
Not yet.
Some instincts you don't explain—you just listen.
---
The hotel suite Riyan chose was quiet, neutral, wrapped in layers of security that didn't announce themselves. No Malhotra portraits. No memories clinging to the walls. Just clean space and distance.
Riyan checked every lock himself.
"Security rotation changes every six hours," he said. "No names shared. No patterns."
I nodded, watching him pace the room.
He was doing what he always did when danger changed shape—controlling variables.
"Riyan," I said softly.
He stopped.
"You can't out-plan everything," I continued. "Some threats don't move like that."
His jaw tightened. "I know."
But he didn't look convinced.
---
Arjun called just before midnight.
"Someone tried to access my medical file again," he said quietly. "Different IP. Clean route."
Riyan straightened instantly. "From where?"
"Offshore," Arjun replied. "But here's the problem—"
He paused.
"They weren't looking for me."
My stomach dropped.
"Then who?" I asked.
Another pause.
"You."
Silence stretched between us.
Riyan's eyes snapped to mine.
"Why?" he demanded into the phone.
"They searched old therapy notes," Arjun said. "The ones from after the incident. The ones mentioning… memory inconsistencies."
My pulse quickened.
"They think there's more," I whispered.
"Or they know there is," Arjun said grimly. "And they're worried you might remember it."
The call ended shortly after.
Riyan stared at the phone like it might bite him.
"They're not trying to erase the past anymore," he said slowly. "They're trying to control the future."
I sat down, suddenly tired.
"The message I got earlier," I admitted quietly. "It wasn't a threat. It was a reminder."
He looked at me sharply. "Aarvi—"
"I know," I cut in gently. "I should've told you sooner."
I handed him my phone.
He read the messages once. Then again.
"They think they own something you took," he said. "What did you take?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth had been circling me all evening, waiting to land.
"I think," I said slowly, "that the night Arjun disappeared… I heard something. Or saw something. And they made me forget just enough to keep me harmless."
Riyan's face went still.
"Selective memory suppression," he murmured. "Not erasure."
"Yes," I said. "Which means whatever it was… mattered."
A knock came at the door.
Three soft taps.
Riyan moved instantly, hand near his sidearm as he checked the monitor.
No one.
The hallway was empty.
But something lay on the floor outside the door.
An envelope.
Plain.
White.
No name.
Riyan opened it carefully.
Inside was a single photograph.
Old.
Grainy.
Taken from a distance.
It showed a private pier at night.
A car.
Headlights on.
And a woman stepping out of the shadows.
My breath caught painfully.
Because even in the blur, I recognized the posture.
The coat.
The way her head was tilted.
"That's—" Riyan started.
"Your mother," I finished.
Written on the back of the photo, in neat handwriting, were four words:
YOU WERE THERE TOO.
My hands trembled.
Riyan looked at me, eyes dark and focused.
"They're right," he said quietly. "This isn't over."
No.
It wasn't.
Because the enemy wasn't trying to silence us anymore.
They were trying to wake something—
Something buried inside me.
Something I had survived by forgetting.
And whatever I remembered next…
Would change everything.