At next morning, Ahaan sat in silence.
He hadn't slept.
The face of the burnt boy—Jai—was stuck in his mind.
Those black eyes. That strange smile.
The way the photo had burned on its own.
Ahaan whispered to himself:
"Why is he watching me?"
He picked up his father's journal again.
The pages were cold, like ice.
He flipped back to the list of names. Jai's name flickered—letters slowly fading and returning like a heartbeat.
Still alive (?).
Ahaan didn't know what to believe anymore.
Was Jai really alive?
Or was he… something else now?
He went to his mom.
"Ma," he asked softly, "Did you ever hear the name Jai?"
Her smile faded immediately.
She looked scared—really scared.
"Where did you hear that name?"
Ahaan lied. "Just… a dream."
She slowly sat down on the couch.
"I never told you this," she whispered, "but the day we adopted you… there was one boy they never found."
Ahaan's eyes widened. "Was his name Jai?"
His mother nodded.
"He was strange. He used to stare at walls and talk to… someone no one else could see."
Ahaan's stomach twisted.
Later that day, Ahaan decided he had to go back.
Back to the place where it all began.
St. Elora's Orphanage.
He took the journal, a flashlight, and his phone.
He didn't tell his mom.
He didn't want to put her in danger.
By evening, he was standing outside the ruins of the orphanage.
The gate was rusty, broken.
The building looked more like a skeleton than a home.
Crows sat silently on the roof, watching.
The moment Ahaan stepped inside the gate, the wind stopped.
Everything went dead quiet.
Inside, it smelled like ash and dust.
Burned wood.
Old metal.
He turned on his flashlight.
The walls still had marks—burn patterns shaped like hands.
Tiny hands.
Children's hands.
He followed the hallway toward the basement.
The same hallway he had seen in dreams.
It was colder here.
His breath turned to fog.
As he walked, he heard something—soft, barely there.
"Ahaan…"
A whisper. Not his own voice.
Not Jai's either.
It sounded… female.
He reached a door.
Burnt. Half-open.
On it was written in black ash:
"Room 12."
He pushed the door open slowly.
Inside was an old playroom.
Burnt dolls. Broken furniture.
And in the middle, something shining.
Ahaan stepped forward.
It was a tiny shoe.
Next to it, burned into the floor:
"She was the first to burn."
Suddenly—BANG!
The door slammed shut behind him.
His flashlight flickered.
Then died.
In total darkness, Ahaan heard footsteps.
Soft. Bare. Coming closer.
He held his breath.
Then—a voice spoke behind him:
"You forgot us."
He turned, but no one was there.
The voice whispered again:
"You started the fire, Ahaan."
His heart dropped.
"No… I didn't… I was just a baby…"
"You were the spark. Jai was the flame."
Suddenly, his flashlight turned on by itself.
The walls were covered in writing:
"YOU BURNED US."
"YOU LEFT."
"JAI NEVER FORGOT."
Ahaan stumbled out of the room, terrified.
He ran through the hallway.
The orphanage shifted around him.
Walls twisted. Doors disappeared.
It was turning into a maze.
Then—
He saw something.
A burnt file cabinet, toppled over.
Inside, something was sticking out.
A burnt folder.
He pulled it out.
Inside was a report.
His heart stopped as he read it.
"Incident Date: March 13"
"Explosion in Room 12"
"Believed Cause: Child tampering with gas heater and matches."
The name written next to it:
"Ahaan Das – Age 3"
His legs felt weak.
He dropped the folder.
"I… I did this?"
Was it true?
Did he cause the fire?
Was that why Jai wanted revenge?
Suddenly, he felt a hot breath on his neck.
"Now you remember."
He turned.
Jai stood inches from his face.
Burned.
Eyes glowing.
But smiling.
"We're going to finish what you started."
Then everything went black.
Then...