The evening had descended into a false quiet, one that seemed too quiet to be safe.
Ava gazed out the window of her family's home, the faint streetlights casting long shadows on the deserted street. The comfort of being home had worn off too fast, replaced by a chilling feeling she couldn't dispel.
Behind her, Priya wandered through the kitchen, attempting to fill the silence with clinking teacups and the gentle rustle of dusty recipes. But nothing penetrated Ava. Not really.
Her mind was stuck somewhere else.
Rohit.
She hadn't heard from him in hours.
He'd walked away when she needed space — no questions, no requests — and now, for the first time since this debacle began, he was really gone.
Why hadn't I questioned where he was going?
Her fingers clenched the curtain as her thoughts derailed. Perhaps he'd gone somewhere safe. Perhaps he required space too. But Rohit never just disappeared like that. Not without a word. Not without warning.
"Beta?" Priya's voice intruded.
Ava turned back.
"You're frightening me," Priya spoke softly. "You've stood there for nearly an hour.
Ava attempted a smile, but it was lopsided. "I'm just… thinking."
Priya hesitated, her face relaxing. "Is it about him?"
Ava didn't have to ask who. Her silence said it all.
Priya took a seat at the table, interlacing her fingers. "You talked about him once. When you were younger. I always wanted to know what went wrong between you two."
Ava blinked, taken aback. "I… I didn't say I mentioned him."
"You didn't have to," Priya replied, giving a little, sad smile. "You only said his name once. But the way you said it… a mother notices these things."
That stung more than it should have.
Because the Rohit of all those years ago — the one who had lent her his umbrella, who had defended her in school, who had carried her backpack when she sprained her ankle — that Rohit was still hidden under the shadows of this nightmare. She'd simply lost the memory of how to look at him without fear behind.
But now he was gone.
And Ava couldn't choose whether the emptiness inside her was grief, guilt… or warning.
Suddenly, there was a harsh knock on the front door.
Both women were frozen.
Three knocks.
Then nothing.
Ava rose to her feet, her heart stuck in her throat.
Priya looked at her. "Expecting someone?"
Ava shook her head. "Nobody knows I'm here."
A knock again. Louder than before.
Ava moved silently to the door, her ear against the wood lightly. No voices. No footsteps. Nothing.
She caught her breath, then opened it — just an inch.
The corridor outside was vacant.
But something had been placed on the doormat.
A simple white envelope.
She picked it up slowly, fingers shaking. No name. No address. Just her.
Inside, one photo.
It was dark and grainy, but unmistakable.
Rohit.
Standing at the boundary of a trail through the trees. He wasn't facing the camera. He wasn't even in motion. Just… standing. Still. As if waiting for something.
Or someone.
Ava stood before it, her heart thudding.
"Where are you?" she breathed.
And more importantly—
Who took this picture?
.....
The photo shook in Ava's hand.
Rohit. Alone. In the woods.
Not turning to the camera, not shifting — as though he was motionless in time.
"Beta, what's it?" Priya asked, standing up with concern running through her voice.
Ava could not speak. She held the photo up, her eyes still fixed on the picture.
Priya took the photograph carefully, furrowing. "When was this taken?"
"I don't know," Ava breathed. "But it's new. It must be."
A flicker of discomfort crossed Priya's face. "And it was just left on the porch?"
Ava nodded.
"Then someone knows you are here."
The words skittered down Ava's spine. Not because they were a surprise — but because they were a confirmation.
She wasn't safe.
Not here. Not anywhere.
Ava picked up her phone and opened her messages. Nothing from Rohit yet. No missed calls. No texts. No signals. She called him again.
Straight to voicemail.
She left the phone on the table with a frustrated huff and looked at the photo again, this time focusing in.
Behind him… trees. Thick. Dense. A very faint outline of a rusty metal sign, half-hidden in moss.
Her heart jumped.
She had seen that trail before.
Not recently — years ago. A school excursion to the northern hills. There was a path with warning signs and destroyed fences, closed after a landslide. The teachers ensured no one approached it.
Is it the same place?
"Mom," Ava said slowly, "do you remember the old hill path near Sahil Valley? The one that was closed?"
Priya squinted. "That was years ago. Why?"
"I believe this photo was taken here."
"Ava—" Priya's voice went sharp. "If someone did leave this out for you to find, then it's more than a clue. It's bait."
"I know," Ava replied softly. "But I can't sit around here."
She rose up, grabbing her jacket from the chair.
"Wait—what are you doing?"
"I need to find him."
"Ava, you yourself said you don't know who to trust. You can't go running off into the woods by yourself on the basis of a photograph!"
"I won't be alone," Ava replied, her voice steady but firm. "I know someone who may be able to assist."
Thirty minutes later, Ava stood in front of a dilapidated house hidden at the back of the neighborhood — the residence of Inspector Vihan Malik, a police officer her uncle had once trusted.
Now retired, Malik had become something of a recluse, but Ava had remembered him from when she was a child. He had eyes that saw everything, and hands that never quivered, even in the midst of turmoil.
He opened the door wearing a flannel shirt and frayed jeans, grey stubble on his face.
"Ava?" he said, taken aback. "You're… taller than I remember."
"I need your help," she told him without ado, holding out the photo.
He glanced at it, and his face darkened.
"You're not here on a family call then."
"No," she said. "I believe my friend is in harm's way. And I believe someone's leading me into an ambush."
Malik nodded briefly and moved to the side. "Come in."
The house was dark, messy, but faintly scented with stale tobacco and lemon tea. Maps were tacked to the walls. Scrawled notes on newspaper clippings. It didn't seem that a man had retired — it seemed that a man was still hunting shadows.
"I never gave up searching," he told her, meeting her eyes. "After what was done to your uncle… there were too many loose ends. The report they gave me wasn't right."
Ava's chest constricted. "Did you know he was under surveillance?"
Malik gazed at her, his eyes alert. "I had my suspicions. But by the time I had actual proof, it was too late."
He examined the photo once more.
"This is Sahil Ridge. But not the official trail. This is the old maintenance trail — the one they no longer include on the maps."
"So it's authentic?
He nodded. "Real. And deadly. That trail passes by old water tunnels and vacant shelters. Perfect spot to lose someone."
Ava's mouth dried up. "Then I have to leave."
"No," Malik said in a hard tone. "We go."
The ride to the ridge was tense but wordless. The road wound through trees shrouded in fog, the headlights carving only a narrow line through the blackness.
By the time they arrived at the barricade that defined the trail's entrance, the moon was high — a ghostly eye peering from behind floating clouds.
Ava emerged from the car, boots crunching gravel. The cold air nipped at her cheeks. Malik gave her a flashlight and stuffed a small revolver into his coat.
"Stay close," he said. "Don't stray."
The path was bumpy, overgrown in spots. Every twig snap or leaf rustle sent Ava's heart racing. Her flashlight barely cut through the thick underbrush ahead.
But she pressed on.
For Rohit.
She needed to find him.
They trudged for almost twenty minutes before something caught her attention — a glint of silver through the leaves.
She crouched, pushing aside branches, and discovered it:
A silver pendant.
Rohit's.
The one he always wore — a small, flat coin from his father, strung on a thin black thread.
It was covered in dirt, but unmistakable.
"He was here," she whispered, clutching it tightly.
Malik scanned the area. "Then we're close."
Suddenly, a sharp creak echoed from up the trail.
Ava and Malik froze.
Another creak — like a rusted door slowly opening.
Malik raised his hand, signaling silence, and stepped forward.
Through the trees, a faint light glowed — not moonlight, but something artificial. Yellow. Flickering.
They reached a clearing.
An old stone cabin stood in the center, half-collapsed, its roof sagging. Light spilled from its single window. A strange, rhythmic clicking sound came from within.
Malik gestured for Ava to stay back. She ignored him and followed anyway.
They crept toward the window and peeked inside.
The room was fairly bare — aside from a single chair in the middle, opposite the wall.
And on that wall…
Pictures.
Hundreds of them.
Ava. Rohit. Priya. Her uncle. A girl she did not know.
Red marker scrawls.
"HER MEMORY IS RETURNING."
"HE KNOWS TOO MUCH."
"THE FIRE WAS JUST A BEGINNING."
When a movement flickered at the corner.
A man.
He had his back to her. He was working through photographs, muttering under his breath.
Ava felt her blood ice.
Then he paused.
His head rotated — slowly — as if he heard her.
"Run," Malik breathed, grabbing her arm.
They fled back into the trees, branches slapping their faces. Behind them, the door groaned open.
But no footsteps came.
Only the sound of laughter.
Slow. Low. And uncannily calm.
Like the man knew precisely where they were heading.
And that it didn't matter.
He'd find them again.
He always did.
.............
𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀? 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑳𝒀 𝑫𝑶 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮. 𝑰𝑻 𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑷𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑻𝑶 𝑮𝑹𝑶𝑾...!
𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙤 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨.