POV: Aanya
The video played in her mind long after it stopped.
Her mother's voice. The forged complaint. The truth, finally unburied.
Aanya wanted to scream, to run, to dig up every lie this town had quietly folded into polite conversations and school newsletters. But instead, she sat there, still. Breathing.
Then—
A knock.
Three short taps on the front door. Hesitant, familiar.
She wasn't expecting anyone.
She opened the door slowly.
There, on the veranda, stood Reyan.
She blinked.
He was thinner now. Taller. More tired. The same boyish face, but aged around the edges. Time had stretched across his shoulders like regret.
"Aanya," he said. "I heard you were back."
He was her childhood friend. One of the only people who ever noticed when she stopped laughing after Naina left.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, keeping her voice even.
He hesitated. "I came to say I'm sorry."
Aanya narrowed her eyes. "For what?"
Reyan's gaze dropped. "For not believing Naina. For not asking questions. For keeping quiet when it mattered."
She folded her arms, unsure. "And now suddenly you care?"
"No," he said quietly. "I always cared. I just... didn't have the courage to stand against people like him."
Her breath caught.
"You knew?"
He looked up. "I knew something was wrong. We all did. But no one wanted to touch it. Not when he was so… respected."
Aanya's fingers curled. "So you let her be destroyed."
"I let all of us be cowards," he admitted. "But I didn't come here to ask for forgiveness. I came because—he's still working. At another school. And I think he knows you're back."
A chill ran down her spine.
"You're not safe here," Reyan said. "Not if you're digging again."
Aanya met his eyes, something sharp rising in her chest.
"I'm not digging," she said. "I'm unearthing."