The room felt smaller after the memories surfaced.
Not because the walls had moved—
but because the past had.
Riyan didn't let go of me.
Not even when my sobs slowed.
Not even when my breathing steadied.
Like if he did, the truth might slip away again.
"She touched you," he said finally, his voice low, shaking with restrained fury. "She altered your mind."
I nodded weakly.
"Selective suppression," I whispered. "Just enough so I'd doubt myself. So no one would believe me."
Riyan closed his eyes.
"That's why you were perfect," he said. "Not just convenient. Necessary."
I pulled back slightly to look at him.
"She didn't want me gone," I said. "She wanted me silent. Confused. Dependent."
"And close," he added bitterly. "Close enough to watch. To punish. To control."
The realization sat heavy between us.
My phone buzzed softly on the table.
Once.
Then stopped.
Riyan's gaze snapped to it instantly.
"Don't touch it," he said. "Let me."
He picked it up carefully.
A blocked number.
One message.
Blocked:
Memory is dangerous. You should stop digging.
My stomach turned.
"They know," I whispered.
Riyan's jaw tightened.
"Good."
He typed back without hesitation.
Riyan:
She remembers everything.
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
No reply.
Silence.
But it wasn't relief.
It was retreat.
"They're recalculating," Riyan said. "Which means we don't wait."
---
The next morning
The lawyer arrived before sunrise.
A woman in her forties with sharp eyes and a voice that didn't tremble.
"I've reviewed the files," she said after listening to everything—every memory, every message, every recording. "And I'll be very clear."
She looked straight at me.
"You are no longer just a victim," she said. "You are a primary witness to criminal conspiracy, unlawful detention, medical assault, and memory tampering."
My hands went cold.
"That makes you powerful," she continued. "And in danger."
Riyan didn't blink. "Then we move now."
The lawyer nodded.
"We file today," she said. "Emergency protection. Witness status. International oversight."
"And his mother?" I asked quietly.
"She doesn't disappear anymore," the lawyer replied. "She answers."
Riyan's phone rang again.
This time, it was Arjun.
"They tried to move me," he said without preamble. "Hospital transfer order. Forged. Sloppy."
Riyan's expression darkened.
"Where are you now?"
"Locked wing," Arjun replied. "Police presence. They won't get close."
I exhaled shakily.
"They're panicking," I said.
"Yes," Riyan agreed. "And panicking people make mistakes."
---
That evening
The statement went live.
Not a press release.
A sworn testimony.
Mine.
I sat in front of the camera, hands folded, spine straight.
Not the girl who had been blamed.
Not the wife who had been silenced.
The witness.
"I was present the night Arjun Malhotra disappeared," I said clearly.
"I saw the order given. I saw who gave it. And I was threatened into forgetting."
The room was silent.
"I remembered because the truth was never erased," I continued. "Only buried."
When the recording ended, I felt lighter.
Not healed.
But anchored.
Riyan squeezed my hand.
"They can't touch you now," he said.
I met his eyes.
"They already did," I replied. "That's why this ends."
Outside, the city reacted.
Headlines shifted.
Timelines exploded.
Names trended.
But inside the room, there was only one truth that mattered:
I wasn't running anymore.
I wasn't doubting myself.
I wasn't forgetting.
Because I had crossed the line they never wanted me to reach.
I remembered.
And memory—
was the one thing they couldn't control anymore.