The white building swallowed them. Zoya ran through the entrance behind Vihaan, Naina, and the man in the police uniform. Rain dripped from their clothes onto a polished marble floor. The corridor ahead was long, silent, and too bright. Everything was white. White walls. White lights. White doors with black numbers. Zoya’s stomach turned. She knew this place. Not from photographs. Not from stories. From somewhere deeper. A memory that did not feel like a memory. A woman in a mask. A needle. A voice telling her to sleep. “Keep moving,” the policeman said. Zoya stopped. “No.” Vihaan turned. “Zoya—” “I’ve been here before.” The policeman’s face tightened. “I know.” “Then tell me what this place is.” “It’s a private medical facility.” “That’s not what I asked.” He looked down the corridor, then back at her. “It’s where the Circle keeps the people it cannot afford to let go.” Naina’s grip tightened around her gun. “And you brought us here?” “I brought you here because it’s the last place Kabir would expect you to enter willingly.” “That doesn’t make it safe.” “No,” the policeman said. “It makes it necessary.” Zoya looked at the doors passing beside her. 01. 02. 03. Each one was locked. Each one had a small camera above it. And beneath each camera, a number. Not room numbers. Subject numbers. Her skin crawled. “How many people are here?” she asked. The policeman did not answer. “How many?” “Enough.” Vihaan moved closer to Zoya. “We’re looking for the girl in the photograph.” “I know where she is,” the policeman said. “Then take us to her.” The policeman stopped before a door at the end of the corridor. 07. Zoya’s breath caught. The door was different from the others. Thicker. Newer. There were no handles. Only a keypad and a small glass panel. The policeman entered a code. A red light turned green. The lock clicked. “Wait here,” he said. “No,” Zoya said immediately. He looked at her. “You don’t understand what you’re about to see.” “Then let me understand.” The policeman hesitated. Then he opened the door. The room beyond was not white. It was dark. A single lamp glowed beside a bed. Medical equipment lined the walls. An IV stand stood empty beside a chair. And near the window, with her back to them, sat a girl. She was about Zoya’s age. She wore a simple grey dress. Her hair was long and dark, falling over her shoulders. Her hands rested calmly in her lap. Zoya’s heart slammed against her ribs. The girl turned. Zoya stopped breathing. It was like looking into a mirror. Same face. Same dark eyes. Same small scar near the eyebrow. Same birthmark beneath the left ear. The girl looked at Zoya without surprise. “You came,” she said. Zoya’s voice failed. Vihaan stepped forward. “Who are you?” The girl’s eyes moved to him. Then to Naina. Then to Rais, who stood in the doorway, pale and silent. Finally, she looked back at Zoya. “My name is Zoya,” she said. The room went still. Zoya felt the floor disappear. “No,” she whispered. The girl rose slowly from the chair. “Yes.” “You’re lying.” “Am I?” Zoya’s hand tightened around the grey bag. “I’m Zoya Siddiqui.” The girl tilted her head. “That is what Meher told you.” Zoya’s chest hurt. “My mother raised me.” “She did,” the girl said. “But she only raised one of us.” Zoya took a step back. Vihaan moved with her, positioning himself slightly in front of her. “Explain,” he said. The girl looked at him. “You first.” Vihaan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know you.” “No,” she said. “But your father does.” Naina raised her gun. “Don’t move.” The girl did not flinch. “I’m not going anywhere.” “Then talk,” Naina said. The girl looked at Zoya again. “Twenty-five years ago, Alia Raichand gave birth to twins.” Zoya’s breath stopped. “Twins?” “Yes.” “But Meher’s letter said—” “Meher’s letter said what Meher needed you to believe.” The girl stepped closer. “Alia had two daughters. You and me.” Zoya stared at her. The same face. The same eyes. The same birthmark. Twins. “That’s impossible,” Zoya whispered. “Is it?” the girl asked. “You found a photograph of yourself as a baby. You found a hospital bracelet with Alia’s name. You found a locker your mother prepared years in advance. And still, you think the story she gave you was the whole truth?” Zoya’s hands trembled. “Then why did Meher take only one of us?” The girl’s expression changed. For the first time, something raw moved behind her eyes. “Because Kabir took the other.” Silence. Zoya could not speak. “You?” she finally whispered. The girl nodded. “I was three when Kabir found us.” “And Meher?” “Meher ran with you.” The girl’s voice hardened. “She left me behind.” Zoya shook her head. “No. She wouldn’t.” “She did.” “She was trying to save you.” “She saved you,” the girl said. “There’s a difference.” The words cut deeper than Zoya expected. Vihaan stepped between them. “Why would Kabir keep you alive?” The girl smiled, but it was joyless. “Because I was useful.” “For what?” “For what he does to girls.” Naina’s gun shook slightly. Zoya felt sick. “But you’re alive.” “Because I learned how to survive.” The girl walked toward the window. Rain ran down the glass in uneven lines. “For years, I was moved between houses. Hospitals. Rooms like this one. They called me Subject 07 because I was the seventh child they took that year.” Zoya’s stomach turned. “But Kabir didn’t know who I was at first,” the girl continued. “Then I grew up. And I began to look like Alia.” Vihaan’s face tightened. “So he realized you were her daughter.” “Yes.” “And Zoya?” The girl turned back. “Kabir realized there had been two of us.” Zoya’s mouth went dry. “That’s why he never stopped searching.” “Yes.” “And Meher?” The girl’s eyes darkened. “Meher spent her life hiding you from him.” “But she left me,” Zoya said. “She left you.” The girl looked at her for a long moment. “Did she?” Zoya frowned. “What does that mean?” The girl walked to the small table beside the bed and picked up a folded piece of paper. “I found this hidden inside my mattress three years ago.” She held it out. Zoya took it carefully. The handwriting was unmistakable. Meher’s.
My darling, If you are reading this, then you are still alive. That is all I have ever wanted. I could not save you that night. I have hated myself every day since. But I need you to know one thing: I did not leave you because I stopped looking. I left you because Kabir was watching me. If I had taken you both, he would have found us. One of us had to disappear. One of us had to survive. Forgive me. —Ma
Zoya read the letter twice. Then a third time. Her vision blurred. “She wrote to you,” she whispered. “Yes.” “For years?” “Yes.” “And you never told anyone?” “I had no one to tell.” Zoya looked up. The girl was watching her carefully. “You hated her,” Zoya said. “I wanted to.” “But?” The girl’s expression cracked, just slightly. “But she was still my mother.” Zoya’s throat tightened. For a moment, the room felt smaller. Quieter. Two sisters who had spent their lives on opposite sides of the same lie. One hidden. One imprisoned. Both believing they had been abandoned. Then the girl’s expression hardened again. “But Meher made a choice,” she said. “And I need you to hear the rest.” “What rest?” “She did not only hide you from Kabir.” Zoya frowned. “What else?” The girl looked toward the doorway. Rais stood there, silent. The girl’s eyes narrowed. “She hid you from him too.” Zoya turned sharply. Rais did not move. “What does that mean?” Zoya asked. The girl looked at her. “Rais was not just a family friend.” Vihaan’s head snapped toward him. “What is she talking about?” The girl’s voice dropped. “Rais was the man Meher trusted with your location.” Zoya felt cold. “I know that.” “No.” The girl’s eyes stayed on Rais. “You don’t.” Rais finally spoke. “Stop.” The girl ignored him. “Meher did not hide Zoya alone,” she said. “She paid Rais to create a new identity for her. A new name. A new history. A new father.” Zoya’s stomach dropped. “You were never meant to be Zoya Siddiqui,” the girl said. Zoya stared at her. “Then who was I supposed to be?” The girl looked at the door. At the number painted beside it. 07. “You were supposed to be with me,” she said. Zoya’s breath caught. “We were both Alia’s daughters,” the girl continued. “But we were not both meant to survive Kabir.” Vihaan stepped forward. “Then why did Meher separate you?” The girl’s eyes moved to Rais. “Ask him.” Rais’s face had gone grey. “Rais,” Zoya said. “Tell me.” He looked at her. For the first time, he looked old. Truly old. “Meher came to me after the fire,” he said. “She had one child in her arms and another missing.” Zoya’s chest tightened. “She told me Kabir had taken the other baby. She said she needed a new identity for the child she had saved.” “And you gave her one,” Vihaan said. “I gave her a name. Documents. A past.” “Whose past?” Zoya asked. Rais’s voice was barely audible. “Mine.” Zoya stared at him. “You made me your daughter.” “I made you invisible.” “By lying to me my whole life.” “Yes.” Zoya’s eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “And my real name?” Rais looked at the girl. Then back at Zoya. “Your real name,” he said, “is not Zoya.” The girl stepped forward. “It’s Aalia,” she said. “Aalia Raichand.” Zoya felt the name settle over her like a weight. Aalia. Not Zoya. Not Alia. Aalia. “And me?” she asked the girl. “What is your name?” The girl smiled faintly. “My name is Zoya.” Zoya’s head spun. “Then I’ve been living your name.” “No,” the girl said. “You’ve been living the name Meher gave you to keep you safe.” Vihaan looked between them. “Then why does Kabir want Aalia?” The girl’s expression darkened. “Because Aalia is not just Alia’s daughter.” Zoya frowned. “What does that mean?” The girl looked at the camera in the corner of the room. Then at the door. Then back at Zoya. “Because Alia did not only find Kabir’s documents,” she said. “She found the Circle’s list.” Zoya’s skin prickled. “What list?” “The list of every girl they took,” the girl said. “Every family that paid them. Every official who helped them. Every place they used.” Naina’s gun lowered slightly. “Where is it?” The girl looked at Zoya. “That’s the problem.” Zoya’s heart began to race. “Why me?” “Because Alia did not hide the list in a locker,” the girl said. “She hid it where no one would think to look.” Zoya’s hand tightened around the grey bag. “Where?” The girl stepped closer. “In us.” Zoya went still. “What?” The girl pointed to the birthmark beneath her own ear. Then to the identical birthmark beneath Zoya’s. “Alia tattooed half of a code behind each of our ears when we were babies,” she said. “Together, they form the location of the original evidence.” Zoya’s hand flew to her ear. The small birthmark she had always had. The mark she had never thought about. “That’s not a birthmark,” she whispered. “No.” “It’s a tattoo.” “Yes.” Vihaan stared at them. “Kabir knows?” “He suspects,” the girl said. “That’s why he kept me alive. That’s why he never stopped searching for Aalia.” Zoya looked at the camera in the corner. Then at the door. A terrible thought settled in her chest. “If Kabir knows we’re both here—” “He doesn’t,” the girl said. But her voice shook. Zoya stepped closer. “You’re lying.” The girl looked at her. For the first time, fear crossed her face. “I’m not lying.” “Then why are you afraid?” The girl looked toward the one-way mirror on the far wall. Zoya followed her gaze. The glass was dark. But behind it, she could see the faint outline of a room. And a shadow moving. The girl leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Because Kabir does not need to find us,” she whispered. Zoya’s breath caught. “Why?” The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Because he already has one of us.” Zoya froze. “What are you talking about?” The girl looked at her. Then at the mirror. “You are not in a safe house,” she said. Zoya’s stomach dropped. “You’re in Kabir’s facility.” Vihaan went pale. “What?” The girl nodded toward the one-way mirror. “And the man who brought you here—” Zoya turned. The policeman was gone. The door was still open. The corridor beyond was empty. Naina cursed and moved toward it. “Stay here,” she said. But before she could reach the door, the lights went out. Darkness swallowed the room. Then a voice came through the speakers overhead. Calm. Familiar. Kabir’s. “Hello, Aalia.” Zoya froze. “I’ve been waiting for you for twenty-two years.” The girl grabbed Zoya’s arm. “Don’t answer,” she whispered. But Zoya was already looking at the dark mirror. At the shadow behind it. At the man who had taken her sister, killed her mother, and spent her whole life hunting her. Kabir’s voice continued. “And now that you’re here, we can finally finish what your mother started.” The door locked. The lights flashed red. And from the corridor beyond, Zoya heard footsteps. Many of them. Coming closer.