POV: Aanya
The letter lay on the floor, unmoving, but it felt like it had screamed at her.
Aanya hadn't cried in years. Not when her father left. Not even at her mother's funeral.
But now, tears slid down her cheeks—slow, hot, silent.
Not because Naina was angry.
But because Naina was right.
She had looked away.
Not out of cruelty.
But because looking meant seeing, and seeing meant doing something—and she hadn't known how.
The guilt settled like dust in her throat.
---
She wiped her eyes and reached for the USB drive.
Her laptop took a few seconds to register it. The screen flickered once, then opened a single folder: "For Aanya."
Inside:
A folder named "Records"
A video titled "Statement_R.R."
A PDF called "Complaint_Withdrawn_2008"
Aanya clicked on the video first.
---
Her mother appeared, sitting upright on the old study chair in her room, hair pinned neatly, voice quiet but sharp.
> "If you're watching this, I'm gone. And there are things I never told you. Things I should have told the world."
> "In 2008, Naina came to me. She didn't say the words outright, but I knew. I saw it in her eyes. I confronted Mr. D.S. at school. He denied it. Said she was troubled, dramatic. The principal dismissed me. I filed a complaint—but it disappeared."
> "That's the document you'll find here. It was withdrawn without my consent. I was silenced. Threatened. And I stayed quiet to protect you."
> "I thought I was saving you from shame. But I realize now—I was protecting the wrong people."
> "You have a chance now, Aanya. To make it right. For Naina. For every girl who was told to stay quiet."
> "Tell the truth. Even if it burns everything."
The video ended.
Aanya sat frozen, the weight of her mother's words pressing down like stone. Her breath shook.
For fifteen years, she had buried the truth with fear.
Now, the past was no longer just a memory.
It was evidence.
---
She opened the "Complaint_Withdrawn_2008" file.
There it was:
A signed document. Typed. Dated.
Filed by Rukmini Roy.
Marked "Withdrawn at request of parent" — but it wasn't her mother's signature.
It had been forged.