A day of strong winds had dawned. Standing near the window, Yugh looked outside and watched as dry leaves were torn away from the trees and carried off by the wind. Some trees stood almost bare now, stripped down to their trunks, as if time itself had been too harsh on them. š
Despite the daily routines, celebrations, and the busyness of life moving forward, Yugh had not forgotten what had happened at the market, or the words spoken by the police officer. Murder. The word echoed in his mind again and again. Who had killed them? Why would anyone want them dead? These questions never left him, circling his thoughts like an endless storm.
Lost in this confusion, he decided to distract himself by reading Zahra's diary for a while. But as he opened the drawer, his heart skipped a beat, the diary was not there.
"Momā¦ Momā¦" he called out urgently as he rushed to the kitchen, where his mother was busy. š£
"Mom, did you clean my room?" he asked anxiously.
"No, son. I didn't go into your room. Is something wrong?" she replied, concerned.
"No, Momā¦ some important files I kept there are missing. Maybe I misplaced them. I'll check again," he said, forcing calm into his voice. š©
He returned to his room and searched every corner carefully, then even called Yusuf to ask if he had entered his room. Yusuf denied it.
Yugh's mind spiraled into chaos. Who came into my room? Who took it? šµ
"Someone is trying to stop the truth from coming out," he murmured to himself. "But who?" ā“