Chapter 27 — The Door I Was Told to Forget

Chapter 27 — The Door I Was Told to Forget

The stranger was gone.

Miyaka stood exactly where he had left her, staring into the dark passage as if looking hard enough could somehow bring him back.

Nobody spoke.

The tunnel seemed impossibly quiet now. The faint hum of the emergency lights above them was the only sound, along with the uneven rhythm of Miyaka's breathing.

Her mother was alive.

Or had been alive.

The woman buried twelve years ago might not have been her mother.

She had been five when something happened beneath the mango tree.

And somehow, according to a man who seemed to know far too much about her childhood, her father had made sure she forgot it.

Miyaka pressed both hands against her temples.

“I can't do this.”

Jason looked at her.

“Miyaka…”

“No.” She shook her head. “I seriously can't.”

Her voice trembled.

“Just—give me one minute.”

Nobody moved.

She closed her eyes.

One minute.

She needed one minute where nobody told her another secret.

One minute where Moises wasn't someone she had lost and found again.

One minute where her mother was simply dead because that was easier than this.

But even that was impossible now.

She opened her eyes and looked at Daniel.

“You knew.”

Daniel's expression remained unreadable.

“Knew what?”

“My mother.”

He didn't answer.

Miyaka let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.

“Right.”

“Miyaka—”

“You knew she survived the accident.”

Daniel's silence answered for him.

Her chest tightened.

“You knew.”

“Yes.”

The word was quiet.

Miyaka stared at him.

“And you never told me.”

“I couldn't.”

She shook her head immediately.

“Don't.”

Daniel frowned.

“Don't what?”

“Don't give me that answer.”

“What answer?”

“The same answer everyone has given me for the last few days.”

Her voice rose.

“I couldn't tell you. I was protecting you. You weren't ready. It was too dangerous.”

She wiped quickly at the corner of her eye.

“Do you know how exhausting that is?”

Daniel looked down.

“I know.”

“No, you don't.”

Miyaka stepped closer.

“You don't know what it's like to grow up thinking someone is dead. You don't know what it's like to remember a funeral and spend years wondering why you couldn't remember her face properly.”

Daniel's eyes shifted.

Miyaka noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You did that again.”

“Did what?”

“Looked away.”

Daniel sighed.

“You're tired.”

“I'm angry.”

“I know.”

“Then stop treating me like I'm going to break.”

Daniel's expression softened.

“I don't think you're going to break.”

“Then what?”

“I think you've already been carrying more than you should have.”

That silenced her.

For a moment, Miyaka didn't know what to say.

Jason looked between them.

“So let's start with something simple.”

Daniel glanced at him.

Jason crossed his arms.

“What exactly did the man mean when he said her father erased the evidence?”

Daniel took a breath.

“He didn't erase her memory.”

Miyaka looked at him.

“Then what did he mean?”

“Your father couldn't simply remove something from your mind.”

“Then why did he say it?”

“Because he wanted you to believe he did.”

Miyaka frowned.

“That makes no sense.”

“It doesn't have to.”

Daniel walked toward the wooden box and picked up the old photograph.

“When you're five, you don't understand what adults are hiding from you. If everyone around you tells you the same version of something for years, eventually that version becomes the memory you trust.”

Jason's expression changed.

“You mean they changed the story.”

“Yes.”

Miyaka stared at the photograph.

“So my father lied to me.”

Daniel shook his head.

“He lied about what happened. That doesn't necessarily mean he lied because he wanted to hurt you.”

“That doesn't make it better.”

“No.”

Daniel looked at her.

“It doesn't.”

Miyaka swallowed.

She hated how reasonable he sounded.

She hated that every answer created another question.

She looked at Moises.

He had been quiet through most of it.

“What about you?”

His eyes met hers.

“What about me?”

“Did you know?”

“No.”

The answer came immediately.

Miyaka searched his face.

“Nothing?”

“I knew your father was hiding something.”

“That isn't what I asked.”

“No.” Moises took a breath. “I didn't know your mother survived.”

She believed him.

At least, she wanted to.

That was the problem.

She wanted to believe him so badly that sometimes she didn't know whether she was seeing the truth or simply seeing the boy she had loved before life became complicated.

Moises stepped closer.

“You don't have to believe me.”

Miyaka looked at him.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it's true.”

“And if I don't?”

“I'll still be here.”

Her throat tightened.

He didn't say it dramatically.

He simply said it.

Like a fact.

She looked away before he could see how much those words affected her.

Jason suddenly spoke.

“Guys.”

They turned.

Jason was holding the photograph.

“There is someone in this.”

Miyaka walked toward him.

“What?”

He held the photograph beneath the light.

“Look behind the tree.”

She leaned closer.

At first, she saw nothing.

Then she noticed it.

A small figure.

Half-hidden behind the trunk.

Miyaka's stomach dropped.

“Is that…”

“A kid?” Jason finished.

Moises took the photograph.

“Could be.”

“No,” Miyaka whispered.

They looked at her.

“I know this picture.”

Jason frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I've seen it before.”

“Where?”

“I don't know.”

She touched the photograph with her fingertips.

Something about that tiny figure bothered her.

Not because she could recognize who it was.

Because her body seemed to recognize it before her mind did.

A strange pressure formed behind her eyes.

She closed them.

Rain.

A child's laughter.

The smell of wet soil.

She opened her eyes.

Nothing.

“Turn it over,” she whispered.

Jason did.

The same handwritten message.

Nothing else.

Miyaka reached for it.

Her fingers brushed the bottom corner.

She stopped.

“Wait.”

Jason looked at her.

“There.”

A faint mark had been scratched into the paper.

Three circles.

The symbol.

Miyaka stared at it.

Daniel suddenly stepped forward.

“Give me that.”

Miyaka pulled the photograph against her chest.

“No.”

Daniel stopped.

“Miyaka, please.”

“Why?”

“Because I know that mark.”

“Of course you do.”

“Miyaka.”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“Every time I find something, you know something.”

Daniel said nothing.

“You knew about my mother. You knew about the tree. You knew about Moises leaving. You knew about the tunnel.”

“I didn't know everything.”

“But you knew enough.”

Her voice cracked.

“And you kept deciding what I was allowed to know.”

Daniel looked genuinely ashamed.

“Your father asked me to keep you alive.”

“And who asked you to keep me ignorant?”

He didn't answer.

That was answer enough.

Miyaka turned away.

“I hate this.”

Jason stepped closer.

“You don't have to trust Daniel.”

She looked at him.

“You don't have to trust me either,” Jason continued. “Just don't make a decision while you're scared.”

Miyaka gave him a tired look.

“You make it sound easy.”

“I didn't say it was.”

That almost made her smile.

Almost.

Then Jason opened the black notebook again.

“There is something else.”

Miyaka turned.

He carefully pulled a folded sheet from between two pages.

“I didn't see this before.”

Her father's handwriting covered the page.

Miyaka knew it immediately.

Her hands became cold.

“Give it to me.”

Jason handed it over.

She unfolded it.

The first sentence made her heart stop.

Miyaka, if you ever remember the tree, don't trust the memory completely.

She read it twice.

Moises moved closer.

“What else does it say?”

She continued.

You were five. You were frightened. You saw something that you could not understand.

Her fingers tightened around the paper.

The next line was shorter.

You asked me why Moises was crying.

Miyaka looked up.

Moises was staring at her.

“I was crying?”

“I don't know.”

She looked back at the page.

Her vision blurred.

You asked why the man had blood on his hands.

The tunnel disappeared.

For a moment, she wasn't there.

She was five again.

Bare feet in wet grass.

Rain falling through mango leaves.

Moises crying.

Jason standing beside him.

Her father shouting.

A man near the tree.

Blood on his hands.

And her mother—

Miyaka gasped.

She dropped the paper.

Moises caught her by the shoulders.

“Miyaka.”

“My mother.”

“What?”

“She was there.”

Daniel went completely still.

Miyaka looked at him.

“You knew.”

Daniel didn't deny it.

“You knew she was there.”

“I knew she was at the tree.”

“What happened?”

Daniel hesitated.

Miyaka's voice became desperate.

“What happened to her?”

“She left.”

Miyaka stared.

“What?”

“She wasn't taken from the tree.”

Daniel swallowed.

“She walked away.”

“With who?”

Daniel looked at the photograph.

Then at Miyaka.

“With someone she trusted.”

Miyaka's stomach twisted.

“Who?”

Daniel didn't answer.

“Who, Daniel?”

Before he could speak, something slammed somewhere deeper inside the tunnel.

Everyone turned.

Jason immediately reached for the weapon at his side.

Moises moved in front of Miyaka.

Daniel stared into the darkness.

Then they heard it.

Three knocks.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Miyaka stopped breathing.

Something about those three knocks made her blood run cold.

She had heard them before.

Not here.

Not recently.

Years ago.

She saw a door.

A little girl standing beside it.

Her mother's hand gripping hers.

Her father's voice behind them.

And then her mother's whisper.

Don't open it.

Miyaka's eyes widened.

“I remember.”

Moises turned toward her.

“What?”

She stared into the darkness.

“The door.”

Daniel's face changed.

“What door?”

Miyaka barely heard him.

Her mind was somewhere else now.

Somewhere in the past.

Somewhere beneath the mango tree.

“There was a door,” she whispered.

Another three knocks echoed through the tunnel.

And this time, a voice came from the other side.

A voice Miyaka had not heard in twelve years.

Her mother's voice.

“Miyaka…”