I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, the photograph burned itself onto the back of my eyelids.
YOU WERE THERE TOO.
The words echoed louder than any threat.
I sat on the edge of the bed, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the city lights beyond the glass. They looked unreal—too calm for what was happening inside me.
Riyan hadn't slept either.
He sat across the room, elbows on his knees, phone untouched for once, watching me with an intensity that wasn't control anymore.
It was fear.
"Aarvi," he said finally, his voice low, careful, "don't force it. Memories don't come back on command."
"I'm not forcing anything," I whispered. "It's already happening."
He stood and crossed the room slowly, stopping in front of me.
"Tell me what you're feeling."
I swallowed.
"Pressure," I said. "Like something is knocking from the inside. Not pain. Just… insistence."
I pressed my fingers to my temple.
"And flashes."
His jaw tightened. "What kind of flashes?"
"A car door slamming," I murmured.
"Cold air."
"Water."
I froze.
Water.
My breath hitched.
Riyan went completely still.
"There was water," I whispered. "That night. I remember the smell. Salt. Oil."
The image sharpened suddenly—violent and clear.
A pier.
Dark waves slapping against concrete.
A man arguing in a low, furious voice.
And a woman stepping forward from the shadows.
My nails dug into my palms.
"I wasn't just there," I said, voice trembling. "I was hiding."
Riyan crouched in front of me instantly.
"Hiding from who?"
I shook my head, tears burning.
"From her."
The word came out instinctively.
"Your mother."
Silence shattered between us.
"I saw her," I continued, the memories spilling faster now, unstoppable. "She didn't see me. I was behind the storage crates. I remember holding my breath because I was afraid she'd hear me."
My heart pounded violently.
"She was angry," I said. "Not panicked. Not grieving. Angry."
Riyan's face drained of color.
"What was Arjun doing?" he asked hoarsely.
I closed my eyes.
"Arguing," I whispered. "He was saying no. Saying he wouldn't sign something. Saying he was going to tell you."
Riyan's breath broke.
"And then?" he asked.
My whole body shook.
"She told him he was selfish," I said. "That he'd destroy the family. That he didn't understand how power worked."
Tears streamed down my face.
"And then someone else came."
Riyan stiffened. "Someone else?"
"A man," I said slowly. "Not family. Security. Private. He called her 'Ma'am.'"
Riyan closed his eyes briefly.
"She ordered him to take Arjun," I whispered. "Not kill him. Not hurt him. Just… take him."
My chest felt tight, like it might collapse.
"And then," I said, my voice breaking completely, "I made a sound."
Riyan's eyes snapped open.
"I stepped back," I continued. "A piece of metal fell. Just a little noise. But enough."
My hands trembled violently.
"She turned."
Riyan whispered my name.
"She saw me," I said. "Just for a second. Our eyes met."
The room felt like it was tilting.
"And she smiled."
Riyan's face twisted with something dark and lethal.
"She walked toward me," I whispered. "Slowly. Calmly. Like she'd already decided something."
I wrapped my arms around myself.
"She told me it was dangerous to be curious," I said. "That some things were too big for girls like me."
Riyan's fists clenched.
"She said I looked frightened," I continued. "And that fear could break people… or erase them."
My voice cracked.
"She touched my head," I whispered. "Right here."
I pressed my fingers to the same spot.
"And after that… everything goes blurry."
Riyan pulled me into his arms before I could finish.
I broke completely then—years of confusion, guilt, and shame collapsing into sobs against his chest.
"She knew," I cried. "She always knew I was there. That's why she chose me. That's why she erased just enough."
Riyan held me tightly, his breathing uneven.
"You were never the problem," he said fiercely. "You were the witness."
I clung to him, shaking.
"She's not the only one," I whispered against his shoulder. "There was someone else watching. Someone who didn't step forward."
Riyan went still.
"Who?" he asked.
I pulled back slowly, wiping my tears.
"I don't know," I said. "But I remember this."
I looked up at him, my fear solidifying into certainty.
"They didn't expect me to remember."
Riyan's eyes burned with a promise that scared even me.
"Then we make sure," he said quietly, "that forgetting is no longer an option."
Because the truth hadn't just returned.
It had chosen a side.
And it had chosen me.