Shadows That Whisper Back
365 Words
Maryam didn’t sleep that night.
She sat by the window, the second note still clutched in her hand.
“He is watching.”
The words circled in her head like whispers in the dark. Who was watching? Arash? Someone else? Was she being followed?
The morning light crept in slowly, painting the dusty floorboards gold. She hadn't opened the chest again. Part of her was afraid of what else it might contain.
By noon, her mind was made up.
She threw on a coat and wrapped her scarf tightly. There was only one person who might have answers.
The antique shop sat on a quiet side street, half-hidden by overgrown vines and crooked signs. As she pushed open the heavy door, a small bell rang above her head.
Arash looked up from behind the counter.
His eyes softened with surprise. "Maryam. I didn’t expect you today."
She studied his face, calm, unreadable. Too calm.
“We need to talk,” she said quietly.
He motioned toward a pair of wooden chairs near the window. "Of course."
She sat, crossing her arms. "I found a letter. In my grandfather’s basement. Addressed to my mother. Signed by you."
Arash didn't flinch. He simply stared at her for a long moment. Then he said, "I was wondering when you’d find it."
Her stomach sank. "So it’s true? You knew my mother?"
He nodded. "Yes. A long time ago. Before you were born."
Maryam leaned forward. "Then tell me—who are you? And why does that letter say not to tell me the truth about my father?"
Arash looked away. For the first time, his expression cracked.
“Because the truth... could destroy everything you believe about your family.”
Maryam’s pulse quickened. "Then destroy it."
Arash met her eyes.
“Your father wasn’t who you think he was, Maryam. He wasn’t the man your mother told you about.”
She whispered, “Was he dangerous?”
A pause.
“He was powerful.”
A chill moved through her bones.
“And he’s not dead,” Arash added.
Maryam felt her heart stop. “What?”
Arash nodded slowly. “He’s alive. And he’s looking for you.”
- Writer
