Chapter 3 Unseen Truth

Liam’s POV

The mansion, once glittering with light and laughter, now stood in silence. Rain tapped softly against the windows, the only sound breaking the stillness. Darkness had swallowed the celebration, and the joy of the evening had faded. Only one room remained lit, my private bar.

The clink of glasses echoed as Kabir and I sat on barstools, having drinks. The bar was stocked with every liquor imaginable, but no liquor was strong enough to drown the ache in my chest.

“Where were you? I didn’t see you the whole evening,” I asked him, my voice low.

“I came late,” he replied, pouring more golden liquid into his glass. “Don’t ask why. You already know.”

I sighed. “You never liked Rose. You always wanted Sanjana to be my wife.” with those words

I downed my drink in a single gulp. The burn in my throat was sharp—but not sharper than the void that Sanjana left behind.

“She’s the only one who’s ever occupied my heart. But Mom wants to see me settled. This empire needs an heir. This marriage—it is just a marriage of convenience.”

Kabir stared into his glass. “I still don’t believe she’s dead. Her dead body was not found.  There’s still a chance that she is alive .”

“Five years, Kabir,” I said, walking over to the window. “It’s been five whole years since that accident. Nothing. No sign of her. She’s gone.”

The rain outside was relentless, drumming against the glass. I hated the rain. It reminded me of the night I lost her. Sanjana had taken the light from my life, and the rain had taken her.

“Did you even try to search for her?” He asked quietly. “Or did you just believe what they told you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn't.

“Let’s bury the past where it belongs.” I finally said. It was necessary if I wished to move on.

“It’s getting late. You can use the guest room next to mine. Your stuff from last time is still there.”

Kabir stood silently beside me as I turned to leave. I closed the door behind me and dragged my lifeless body to the only place where I still felt close to her—my room. My sanctuary of memories.

 

The Following Morning

I woke up with the usual headache. A side effect of drinking too much. With lots of effort, I got up and took two painkillers for my headache.

After finishing my morning ritual I sat down with the morning paper and a cup of black Coffee

A headline caught my eye:

“Press Van Involved in Highway Accident — Names Withheld”

My chest tightened. I had a gut feeling. I just knew it was them. Her.

“What happened?” Kabir asked, descending the stairs. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I handed him the paper wordlessly.

After reading it, he frowned. “It was stormy yesterday. Accidents happen. Why does this concern you?”

" Come with me. I will explain ." With a swift pace, I moved to the garage, followed by Kabir.

“There’s a reporter named Samantha,” I began, hesitating. “She was part of the team covering the event.”

He raised an eyebrow. “There are plenty of Samanthas, Liam. Why this one?”

“I don’t know. Since yesterday, she’s haunting my senses. The way she laughed, tucked her hair behind her ears, her voice—everything reminds me of Sanjana.”

Kabir was quiet now.

“It’s strange, I know,” I continued. “But I felt something. Like she’s Sanjana with a different face.”

By the time I stopped speaking, we had reached the hospital’s parking lot.

Kabir tugged at my sleeve. “So… do you still think Sanjana is dead?”

I didn’t reply. I stepped out of the car. He followed.

Kabir’s thoughts (Unspoken)

I may not know this Samantha girl well, but there’s one thing I can never tell you, my dear friend, that Sanjana is alive. I was forced to hide it from him. I’m sorry, my friend.

“Can’t you walk a little faster?” I hissed. “A snail’s better than you.”

We reached her room. Her colleagues stood outside. I greeted them, and one of the male reporters—Tom, I think—guided us inside.

She lay on the hospital bed, fragile and pale, wires connected to her thin wrists. My heart clenched.

“Good morning, Samantha. How are you feeling?” I asked gently.

Her eyes fluttered open. They were empty, hollow.

“Good morning, Mr. Turner,” she replied flatly. “What brings you here?”

“I heard about the accident… just wanted to check on you.”

A faint, lifeless smile tugged at her lips. “Why, Mr. Turner? Why inquire about my well-being? I’m just a press reporter. You’ve checked that I’m alive. Now, if you’ll excuse me… I need rest.” Her voice was cold. There was something in her tone—sarcasm? Anger?

I turned, confused. Before leaving, I asked Tom how the others were. Then I left.

 

Samantha’s POV

Now you care?

Where were you when I lay on a cold hospital table, my face torn apart and my identity taken from me?

That night—when you proposed to me—was supposed to be the most beautiful night of my life. But it became a curse.

You disappeared when I needed you most.

Now you come here with your polished shoes and empty concern?

If. only you knew… who I really am?