The message remained on my screen.
"...but can't remember the girl who died for you."
For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
The apartment felt unnaturally silent. Outside, rain hammered against the windows while distant thunder rolled across the city.
But all I could hear was my own heartbeat.
Aisha.
The name echoed inside my head.
And yet...
I couldn't see her face.
No matter how hard I tried.
It was like staring through fog.
I remembered fragments.
A laugh.
A voice.
A pair of trembling hands.
But her face remained hidden.
Almost as if someone had erased only that part.
Meera slowly sat down on the edge of the couch.
Her face had gone pale.
"Arjun..."
I looked at her.
"Do you know who Aisha is?"
The question hurt more than I expected.
Because deep down, I already knew the answer.
Meera hesitated.
And that hesitation told me everything.
"You do."
She lowered her eyes.
"I know a little."
"A little?"
My voice sounded sharper than intended.
A painful silence settled between us.
Then Meera finally spoke.
"She was important."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Important.
What did that even mean?
Friend?
Colleague?
Family?
Or something else?
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I promised."
"To who?"
She looked directly into my eyes.
"To you."
The room became still.
"What?"
"Three years ago," she whispered, "after the accident... you made me promise."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Promise what?"
A tear appeared in the corner of her eye.
"That if you ever forgot everything..."
Her voice cracked.
"...I wouldn't tell you about Aisha until you remembered her yourself."
I stared at her.
Unable to process what I was hearing.
Why would I do that?
Why would I hide someone important from myself?
Unless...
I already knew the answer.
And couldn't bear it.
My phone vibrated again.
Unknown Number.
A new message appeared.
"You're asking the wrong person."
Then another.
"Check the photograph carefully."
I immediately picked up the hospital photograph from the table.
This time, I looked closer.
Much closer.
The security-camera image was blurry.
Grainy.
Low quality.
But now I noticed something strange.
There was someone else in the corridor.
Standing near the far end.
Almost hidden by the shadows.
A woman.
The image quality made it impossible to see her face.
But around her neck—
A yellow scarf.
My pulse quickened.
Meera leaned forward.
"What is it?"
I pointed at the photograph.
Her eyes widened.
"That's impossible."
"What?"
"That woman wasn't there before."
I looked at her sharply.
"What do you mean?"
"When we first saw the photo..." she whispered, "I swear she wasn't there."
A cold sensation crawled down my spine.
The image hadn't changed.
That wasn't possible.
And yet...
I could have sworn the figure wasn't there earlier either.
Before either of us could speak, my phone rang.
Unknown Number.
The same one.
This time, it wasn't a message.
It was a call.
Meera looked terrified.
I answered.
Silence.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then a distorted voice spoke.
Not male.
Not female.
Artificial.
Mechanical.
"Room 309."
Static crackled.
"Tomorrow."
More static.
"Before they erase the rest."
My blood froze.
"What are you talking about?"
The voice ignored the question.
"They lied to you."
A pause.
"Your father lied."
Another pause.
"Kabir lied."
The static grew louder.
Then came the sentence that made my entire body go numb.
"And Meera is still lying."
The call disconnected.
The apartment fell silent again.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Meera hadn't moved.
She looked shaken.
Terrified.
But not surprised.
And that scared me more than anything.
Because for the first time since this started...
I realized something I had been avoiding.
Every clue pointed toward the same truth.
Everyone around me knew more than they admitted.
My father.
Kabir.
Dr. Malhotra.
Even Meera.
Everyone was protecting something.
Or hiding something.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it...
There was a girl named Aisha.
A girl who had apparently died for me.
Yet I couldn't remember her face.
Suddenly, another flash hit me.
Stronger than any before.
A laboratory.
Bright white lights.
Aisha standing in front of a computer.
Her voice shaking.
"They'll come after us."
Then another image.
Meera crying.
Aisha arguing with someone.
A man shouting.
Security alarms.
Running footsteps.
And finally—
Aisha turning toward me.
For a brief second...
I almost saw her face.
Almost.
Then the memory shattered.
I stumbled backward.
My vision blurred.
And one sentence echoed through my mind.
Not my memory.
Aisha's memory.
The realization hit me like lightning.
Project Echo wasn't replacing memories randomly.
It was transferring them.
Someone else's memories had been placed inside me.
And if that was true...
Then one terrifying possibility remained.
What if the memories of Aisha weren't missing?
What if they were never mine to begin with?
Outside, thunder exploded across the sky.
At the exact same moment, another message arrived.
A photograph.
A recent photograph.
Taken less than twenty-four hours ago.
It showed Room 309.
The door was slightly open.
And written across the image were five words.
"She is still alive."