HAANI

Episode7

HAANI

Episode 7

London was beautiful at night, but that night there was a strange sadness hidden beneath its beauty.

The rain had stopped, but the streets were still shining with water. Yellow streetlights reflected across the wet roads, while the distant sounds of passing cars, occasional bus horns, and the cold wind repeatedly broke the silence of the city.

But for Haani, none of the lights, rain, or beauty of London mattered anymore.

Only two words kept echoing in her mind.

“Stop looking.”

She stood beside the window of her room, holding the small piece of paper she had found in the library corridor.

She had read those words several times.

“Who is trying to stop me?”

She whispered to herself.

Then her eyes moved toward the table.

The silver key was no longer there.

The key engraved with 1887 had disappeared.

Haani closed her eyes.

She remembered exactly what had happened in the library. The lights had gone out for a few seconds. There had been the sound of footsteps, a shadow moving through the corridor, and then only the warning note.

Was that person Eric?

Or someone else?

She didn’t know.

Suddenly, her phone rang.

It was a message from Sophie.

“Are you awake?”

Haani replied:

“Yes.”

A few seconds later, another message appeared.

“Come outside. Emma found something.”

Haani immediately took her white dupatta, wrapped it around herself, and left her room.

As soon as she stepped outside, the cold wind touched her face.

The night was already deep.

Sophie and Emma were standing near the small university garden. Emma was holding an old file.

Haani quickly walked toward them.

“What happened?”

Emma held the file out.

“We found this behind one of the old library shelves.”

Haani looked at it carefully.

There was no name on the cover.

Only an old symbol.

A small circle with the number 1887 written inside it.

Haani’s fingers froze.

“Where did you find this?”

Emma explained, “Sophie and I went back to the library. We checked the place where you found the note. There was a loose wooden panel behind the books. This file was hidden inside.”

Sophie added, “The strange thing is that the file is extremely old.”

Haani opened it.

Inside were old documents, faded copies of photographs, and handwritten pages.

On the first page were the words:

“Historical Records — London, 1887.”

Haani slowly turned the page.

The next page contained several names.

Some were clear.

Others had faded with time.

Then one name caught Haani’s attention.

Edward Johnson.

She looked at Sophie.

“Johnson…”

Sophie immediately took the file from her.

“That’s Eric’s surname.”

Emma looked surprised.

“Could he be a member of Eric’s family?”

Haani didn’t answer.

Eric’s face appeared in her mind.

His strange silence.

The way his behavior changed whenever 1887 was mentioned.

The way she had seen him searching through the archive.

And now this name.

Johnson.

Could all of this really be connected?

Suddenly, footsteps came from the other side of the garden.

The three girls fell silent.

“Who’s there?” Sophie called.

There was no answer.

Emma turned on her phone’s flashlight.

There were only trees, wet grass, and a stone path ahead.

Then, suddenly, a person wearing a dark coat passed between the trees.

Haani’s heart skipped.

“Who was that?”

Sophie shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Haani quickly placed the file inside her bag.

“We should go inside.”

The three girls hurried back toward the building.

But a new name had already become fixed in Haani’s mind.

Edward Johnson.

---

The next morning, the university was unusually busy.

Two security officers were standing outside the archive.

Mr. Henry was repeatedly checking his documents, while the professor stood nearby.

As soon as Haani, Sophie, and Emma arrived, the professor noticed them.

“What are you three doing here?”

Haani asked,

“Professor, what happened?”

The professor hesitated before answering.

“The archive is being temporarily closed.”

“Why?”

Mr. Henry answered,

“Someone tried to open the archive door last night.”

Haani stopped.

“Was anything stolen?”

Mr. Henry shook his head.

“We’re still checking everything.”

The professor added,

“But there is something strange. The lock wasn’t broken. Someone tried to open it with a key.”

Haani immediately thought of the silver key.

1887.

Had someone used that exact key?

Or another one?

She was about to ask when a voice came from behind them.

“What’s going on here?”

Eric was walking toward them with Jack and Leo.

He looked at the locked archive door.

For a brief moment, something hard and uneasy appeared on his face.

Then his eyes moved toward Haani.

Their eyes met for a second.

Haani noticed something in his expression.

A question.

Perhaps he wanted to know whether she had found anything.

Haani immediately looked away.

The professor said to Eric,

“Someone tried to open the archive during the night.”

Eric frowned.

“What?”

“We’re investigating.”

Eric remained silent for a moment.

Then he asked,

“Are the old files inside safe?”

The professor looked at him with surprise.

“Why are you concerned about the old files?”

Eric didn’t answer immediately.

Finally, he said,

“I was just asking.”

The professor replied,

“You should stay away from this matter.”

Eric gave a cold smile.

“I already am.”

Haani carefully listened to those words.

She knew that even if Eric wasn’t exactly lying, he certainly wasn’t telling the whole truth.

---

Later that afternoon, Haani and her friends went to the History Department, located in one of the older sections of the university.

There was a small office where historical records were kept.

The professor had suggested that they speak to someone there.

Mrs. Eleanor Grace.

She was a retired archivist in her sixties who had worked with the university’s historical records for many years.

Haani knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

They entered.

The room was filled with books, old maps, and wooden cabinets.

Eleanor adjusted her glasses.

“You’re Professor’s students?”

Sophie nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Haani introduced herself and then mentioned 1887.

Eleanor’s expression immediately became serious.

“1887?”

Haani nodded.

“Yes.”

“Where did you find this year?”

Haani hesitated.

“An old photograph.”

Eleanor looked at her carefully.

“And did you find anything else with the photograph?”

Haani was surprised.

“How did you know?”

Eleanor slowly leaned back in her chair.

“Because something has always been missing from the records of 1887.”

Emma immediately asked,

“What do you mean?”

Eleanor pulled out an old register.

“Several decades ago, some historical documents were removed from the archive. They contained records about religion, society, and the relationships between different communities.”

Haani asked,

“Was there a Johnson in those records?”

Eleanor’s hand stopped.

Silence filled the room.

“Where did you hear that name?”

Haani replied,

“I found it in an old record.”

Eleanor studied her for a moment.

Then she opened the register.

She turned several pages before stopping.

Her finger rested on one entry.

Edward Johnson — Historical Committee, 1887.

Haani held her breath.

“Who was he?”

Eleanor replied,

“He was a former university researcher. A very intelligent man. He studied religious history and the relationships between different communities.”

Sophie asked,

“Was he related to Eric?”

Eleanor did not answer immediately.

“I can’t say. Johnson is a common surname.”

Then she closed the register.

“But there is something strange.”

Haani asked,

“What?”

Eleanor spoke slowly.

“Part of Edward Johnson’s records disappeared many years ago.”

Haani’s heart began beating faster.

“The same file?”

“Possibly. But I can’t say for certain.”

“And the 1887 photograph?”

Eleanor thought for a moment.

“There was a photograph from that period showing a religious building near the university. People believed that an important event was connected to that photograph.”

Emma asked,

“Do you know what happened?”

Eleanor lowered her eyes.

“Only that the event changed some people’s lives forever.”

Haani immediately sensed that Eleanor was hiding something.

“Why aren’t you telling us the whole story?”

Eleanor looked at her seriously.

“Because I don’t know what you will do with the truth.”

Then she opened a drawer in her desk.

She took out a small old envelope.

“I found this many years ago.”

Haani stared at it.

There was only one letter written on the envelope.

J

“Whose is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Eleanor suddenly looked toward the door.

“Take this with you.”

Haani was surprised.

“But—”

“Just keep it safe.”

As the three girls were about to leave, Eleanor spoke again.

“And remember one thing.”

Haani turned around.

“Yes?”

Eleanor’s voice became serious.

“Not every secret belongs to the person everyone suspects first.”

Haani stared at her for several seconds.

Those words stayed in her mind.

---

By evening, the London sky had turned dark again.

Haani, Sophie, and Emma left the university as light rain began falling once more.

Sophie said,

“We should open the envelope.”

“Not here,” Emma replied.

Haani nodded.

“We’ll look at it in my room tonight.”

The three girls walked together.

But none of them knew that someone was watching them from across the street.

Eric.

He stood on the other side of the road in a black coat.

Rain fell across his shoulders.

His eyes were fixed on the envelope in Haani’s hand.

The moment he saw it, his expression changed.

He took one step forward.

Then stopped.

Jack walked over to him.

“What are you doing here?”

Eric immediately looked away.

“Nothing.”

Jack looked toward Haani and her friends.

“You were watching them again?”

Eric’s voice became sharp.

“Stay out of it, Jack.”

Jack fell silent.

After a moment, he asked,

“Do you really know nothing about that file?”

Eric looked at him.

“Don’t ask me that again.”

“Because you know something?”

Anger flashed in Eric’s eyes.

“I said no.”

Jack walked away.

Eric remained alone.

The rain grew heavier.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph.

The photograph was badly faded.

A young man stood in it.

On the back, there was only one line:

“Edward — London, 1887.”

Eric stared at the photograph.

For once, there was no anger in his eyes.

Only the weight of an old memory.

He slowly put the photograph back into his pocket.

Then whispered,

“This must not start again.”

---

Around eleven that night, the three girls were sitting inside Haani’s room.

Outside, London had become completely silent.

Rain slid slowly down the windowpane.

Only a small table lamp illuminated the room.

On the table lay the old file, Eleanor’s envelope, and several historical pages.

Haani looked at the envelope.

“We’re opening it.”

Sophie nodded.

Emma asked quietly,

“Ready?”

Haani opened the envelope.

Inside was an old photograph.

It showed a small hall where several people were sitting together.

Sophie brought it closer.

“This…”

Emma looked carefully.

“That must be Edward Johnson.”

Haani turned the photograph over.

On the back was a handwritten sentence:

“Some truths were buried because people were afraid of what they would become if they were known.”

Haani became silent.

Then she noticed another person standing in the corner of the photograph.

His clothing and appearance suggested that he was South Asian.

He was holding a small book.

And beneath the photograph was his name.

Yusuf Rahman.

Haani quietly read the name.

“Yusuf Rahman…”

Sophie asked,

“Who was he?”

Haani shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Emma examined the photograph more closely.

“But why were these two men together?”

Haani had no answer.

At that exact moment, a notification appeared on her phone.

Unknown number.

There was only one message:

“Do not trust the man who fears the truth.”

Haani’s fingers tightened around the phone.

Sophie immediately asked,

“What happened?”

Haani showed them the message.

Silence filled the room.

Emma whispered,

“Who sent this?”

Haani looked at the number.

There was no name.

Only an unknown number.

Then they heard footsteps outside the room.

All three girls fell silent.

The footsteps came closer.

They stopped directly outside the door.

Haani looked at Sophie.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

Two soft knocks sounded against the door.

No one spoke.

Sophie whispered,

“Don’t open it.”

Several seconds passed.

Then the footsteps slowly moved away.

Haani looked down.

Something had been left beneath the door.

A small envelope.

She carefully opened the door, picked it up, and brought it inside.

There was only one piece of paper inside.

One name was written on it.

MICHAEL JOHNSON.

Haani froze.

Eric’s father.

For the first time, the mystery seemed to be connected not only to Eric, but to his entire family.

Haani stared at the paper.

Then she looked toward the rain-covered London window.

A new question formed in her mind.

What had happened in 1887 that its effects were still reaching Eric and his family today?

But Haani did not know that on the same night, in another part of London, Eric was sitting across from his father, Michael.

The room was silent.

Michael looked at his son.

“You heard that name again?”

Eric raised his head.

“What name?”

Michael spoke quietly.

“Yusuf.”

Eric’s expression hardened instantly.

“I don’t want to talk about that name.”

Michael remained silent for a moment.

Then he opened a drawer and took out an old photograph.

“One day, you will have to know.”

Eric refused to take it.

“I said I don’t want to know anything.”

Michael looked at him seriously.

“But the past doesn’t always stay where we leave it.”

Eric stood up.

“No.”

He walked out of the room.

Michael watched the door close behind him.

Then he looked at the photograph.

On the back was the same year.

1887.

And beneath it was one name.

Edward Johnson.

London was silent that night.

But a secret buried many years ago had begun to awaken again.

And Haani had only reached the first door of that secret.

To be continued…