"Are you sure you want to go in?" Ravi asked quietly.
They stood on the porch of the big, quiet house. The sky was gray again, and the air felt heavy.
Amara nodded slowly. "Yes. We need to know what happened here.
We have to help Asha," she said. She also thought about the new feelings in her heart for Ravi. She did not want to leave him alone either.
They pushed open the door. It creaked loudly.
Creeeak…..
Inside, the house was cool and dark. The smell of jasmine was still there. The wind whispered through the halls.
Wooooshhh…..Woooooshhh.....
Amara shivered. "It feels like the house is waiting," she said.
"Let's go back to the study. Maybe there are more letters," Ravi suggested.
They walked carefully through the dusty rooms. In the study, they opened more drawers. They found a small wooden box under a pile of papers. Inside was a diary with a leather cover.
Amara opened it. The pages were brown and fragile.
The writing was neat. "It's a diary," she said. "Maybe it is Asha's."
They sat on the floor and read the first page together. It said:
"I love him, but my father will not let me marry him. His name is Raghav. He teaches the children of the village. He is kind and good, but my family says he is not rich enough. I do not care. My heart only knows him."
Amara felt her heart beat faster. "So his name was Raghav," she whispered. She read on.
Another entry said:
"Tonight, we plan to meet by the big front doors. He will take me away. We will live far from here. I am scared but happy. I pray the wind helps us."
Amara and Ravi looked at each other. "This must be the night Nanda talked about," Ravi said. His voice was soft.
They turned the page, but the next page was blank. "The rest is empty," Amara said. "She never wrote again."
"She was taken away," Ravi said. "She never got to finish her story."
They closed the diary and sat in silence for a moment. Then Amara noticed something behind the desk. "Look," she said.
On the wall, half-covered by dust, hung a small painting. She wiped the dust away with her sleeve. The painting showed a young couple. The woman wore a simple sari and had a gentle smile.
The man stood beside her, holding a book. He had dark hair and kind eyes. His face looked strangely familiar.
"Does he look like you?" Amara asked softly. She turned to Ravi. He looked at the painting and then at her.
"A little," he said, surprised. "Maybe it's just the style of the painting." He touched his own face and laughed quietly. "Or maybe I remind the house of him, just as you remind it of her."
Amara smiled. "Maybe," she said. The thought made her feel closer to him.
As the day passed, clouds thickened outside. The wind started again, slowly at first, then harder. Doors upstairs began to slam.
Bang! Bang!
Amara jumped. "It's starting again," she said, her voice shaking a little.
Ravi stood up and offered his hand. "Let's light more candles," he said. "And stay together." Amara took his hand. His grip was warm and steady. She felt safer with him.
They lit candles and placed them around the room. Shadows danced on the walls. The wind sounded like a voice humming a sad tune. It made Amara's heart ache. She thought of Asha waiting by the door, of Raghav standing in the rain.
Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the stairs.
Step… Step… Step…
Someone or something was coming down. They held their breath. A soft figure appeared in the doorway. It was a woman wearing an old-fashioned sari. Her face was pale and soft.
She looked both there and not there, like a picture in smoke. She held a candle. She looked at Amara and Ravi with eyes full of sadness and hope.
"Raghav?" she whispered, her voice like the wind. She stepped closer, then stopped. Her form flickered.
Amara felt tears in her eyes. "No," she said gently, "I'm Amara. And this is Ravi. We want to help you." She spoke slowly and clearly.
The woman's face changed. She looked almost relieved. "He waited," she said. "He waited and waited. But I was taken away. I could not find him. I have waited here ever since."
Amara nodded. "We know," she said. "We found your letter. We found your diary. We want to find out what happened to Raghav. Maybe we can bring peace to you both."
The woman's eyes filled with tears. She faded a little, then brightened again. "The letter," she whispered. "The well." Then she slowly disappeared, like mist in the morning sun. Only the smell of jasmine remained.
Ravi squeezed Amara's hand. "Did she say 'the well'?" he asked.
"Yes," Amara replied. "She did. Maybe there is something by the well. We have to check it."
Outside, the thunder rolled again.
Rumble… Rumble…
"We'll go in the morning," Ravi said. "It is too dark now. We must rest. And we must stay together."
Amara nodded. She felt scared but also determined. The house had given them a clue. They would find the well. They would find out what happened to Raghav. Maybe then Asha's spirit could rest, and maybe her own heart could find rest too. She glanced at Ravi. He smiled softly at her. Their hands were still linked. She did not let go.