Sana sat in the cold, damp dormitory of the orphanage, clutching a torn piece of cloth around her hand. She was twelve years old, small for her age, with big black eyes that always seemed to be watching.
She kept quiet. Always quiet. That was safer.
Because Sana could hear their thoughts.
The other children hated her for being so silent.
"Creepy girl," they'd mutter.
"Always staring."
They didn't know she wasn't listening to their words. She was listening to their minds.
Outside the cracked windows, birds chirped, an almost mocking cheeriness compared to the gloom inside.
Suddenly, the caretaker's voice boomed through the hall.
"Children! Come outside quickly. The new owner has arrived. Line up to meet him!"
The children groaned and shuffled, but obeyed.
Sana tightened the cloth around her hand. She was trying to hide the small burn she got while cleaning the kitchen stove. She didn't want anyone to see.
She followed them, head down, her long messy hair falling over her face.
They lined up in the courtyard, weeds poking through the cracked concrete.
Sana felt the cold wind on her face. She shivered, both from the chill and the nervous thoughts of the other children.
I hope he's nice, someone thought.
What if he's worse than the last one?
Sana didn't dare look up.
Footsteps approached. Heavy. Confident.
The new owner stood in front of them.
He wore a dark black coat and pants, his face hidden in shadow.
Sana's heart began to race.
She forced herself to look up—
And gasped.
But instead of seeing his face, she saw birds. Bright, singing birds in a sunny sky.
She blinked.
She was back in her small room, alone, lying on her cot.
It was morning.
It had been a dream.
Or was it a memory?
She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her pounding heart.
She was no longer twelve.
She was twenty-one.
Sana rubbed her face and stood up.
She had grown into a beautiful woman.
Long, thick black hair, which she tied in a neat braid over her shoulder.
Her face still held that childlike innocence.
But her eyes—her eyes were deep, knowing, and always searching.
She wore a simple white salwar suit that shone against her golden skin. She checked herself in the mirror.
Simple. Clean. Polite.
That was how she survived.
She checked the clock on the wall.
"Oh no. I'm late."
She rushed out of her tiny rented room.
But the hallway wasn't empty.
Auntie Shashi was standing right there, blocking her way.
Sana paused.
Their eyes met.
Instantly, Sana felt a rush of whispers in her head.
Will she help me? I hope she does. God, I'm so desperate.
Sana tilted her head slightly.
"Auntie Shashi? You look worried. What's wrong?"
The older woman looked startled, then gave a weak smile.
"Sana, you always see right through me."
"Tell me," Sana insisted gently.
I have no one else to ask.
Auntie Shashi sighed.
"My dog, Koko…he's sick. High fever. I don't have enough for the vet. I hate to ask, but…"
"How much do you need?" Sana asked without blinking.
"Just…advance rent. For next month. Please."
Sana nodded.
"Of course. Don't worry."
She went back into her room, opened a small tin box, and counted out the rent money plus the advance. She handed it over.
"Thank you, Sana. God bless you," Auntie Shashi whispered, tears in her eyes.
But Sana wasn't done.
"Show me Koko."
They went to the old, rickety ground floor flat.
Koko, the small brown mutt, lay in the corner, panting. His eyes were dull.
Sana knelt beside him and stroked his head.
He loves you, she heard the dog's blurry, simple thoughts.
Her heart clenched.
"Don't worry, Koko. Auntie will get you medicine."
She stood and pressed the money into Auntie Shashi's hand.
"Go quickly. Don't waste time."
Auntie hugged her.
"You're an angel."
Sana forced a smile but inside she was anxious.
She checked the time again.
I'm so late. Mr. Khadush Boss is going to kill me.
She ran to the narrow street where her old scooter was parked.
As she tried to kick-start it, she felt something wrong.
"No. Not now."
The tire was flat. Completely punctured.
Sana cursed softly under her breath.
"Why today?"
She looked around frantically.
Should I run? No. Too far.
She started pushing the scooter, breath coming in short gasps.
At the corner mechanic shop, she nearly crashed into the line of waiting bikes.
"Bhaiya! Please fix it. Fast!"
The mechanic, a stocky man with a paan-stained grin, looked her up and down.
Subah subah kya maal aya hai. Wah.
Sana heard it in his head.
She didn't react, but her face tightened.
"Please. I'm late for work," she said sharply.
He chuckled.
"I'll do it, madam. Don't worry."
She watched him bend over the tire, listening to his mind.
I'll take my time. Let her beg a bit more. Hehe.
Her patience snapped.
"Hurry. Now."
He jumped at her tone and went faster.
Finally, she paid him and left the scooter there.
She ran to the road and waved frantically at passing autos.
"Taxi! Taxi!"
One stopped.
She jumped in.
"To City Tower. Fast."
The driver looked at her through the mirror.
Pretty girl. Seems desperate.
He hit the gas.
"Running late for a date?" he asked with a leer.
"For my job," Sana said curtly, staring out the window.
She didn't bother reading his mind anymore. She didn't want to know.
Traffic was horrible.
Her heart hammered in her chest with every red light.
When they finally reached the office building, she threw money at the driver and jumped out.
The place was a mess.
People were crowded at the entrance.
Police cars.
Yellow tape.
Cameras flashing.
Journalists yelling questions.
"What happened?" she whispered.
She tried to push past.
Security guards stopped her.
"Miss, you can't go in."
"I work here," she said breathlessly.
They hesitated.
One of them looked at her badge.
"It's chaos inside. The police are investigating."
Sana's blood ran cold.
Investigating? What?
"Let me through," she insisted.
The guard shook his head.
"Someone was murdered."
Her breath caught.
Her ears rang.
Murder.
Her mind was screaming.
But louder than that was the sudden flood of thoughts from the crowd.
Who was it?
I heard it was the boss.
Is it true he was killed in his office?
Blood everywhere.
Who would do that?
Sana staggered back a step.
The whispers in her head were deafening.
Her vision blurred.
She clutched the wall to steady herself.
No. Not him. Please no.
She hadn't liked her boss.
He was strict. Cold.
But murdered?
Why?
She pushed her way through the crowd anyway, ignoring the shouting security.
She had to know.
She had to see.
But a police officer grabbed her arm.
"Miss! This is a crime scene!"
"I WORK here!" she screamed.
He didn't let go.
For a second, Sana met his eyes.
And she heard it.
She looks like she's about to faint. Poor girl.
She yanked her arm free, chest heaving.
She turned and ran.
Through the crowd.
Into the street.
Far from the sirens.
She found herself in a narrow alley, leaning against a wall, shaking.
Her thoughts were a jumbled mess.
Murder.
Police.
Blood.
And through it all, one memory clawed its way back.
A man in a black coat.
Standing in front of her twelve-year-old self.
His face hidden.
Her mind screaming.
She wiped at her eyes furiously.
"No. Focus."
She took a deep breath.
"Who killed him?"
The question wouldn't leave her.