They say some memories are inherited, not lived.
Anaya didn't sleep that night.
The image of the mural haunted her — the bride with eyes too alive, too aware. There was a kind of stillness in her expression, like a scream paused mid-breath. That look followed Anaya back into her room, into her dreams.
Only, it wasn't just in dreams anymore.
It was inside her.
She felt it: a pull, like a string tied around her ribs, slowly tugging her into something buried — something not just hers to remember.
✦ The Morning After
The next morning was unnaturally quiet. Even the peacocks that usually wailed through the dawn seemed hushed. Anaya sat in Meera's old room, still wearing the kurta from yesterday, the fabric clinging to her skin with a faint dampness.
She opened the wooden box again.
Inside, folded beneath the letter, was a photograph. Black and white. Torn at the edges.
It showed a young woman — Meera — laughing, her head thrown back, her hair undone. Standing beside her was a man.
Not her grandfather.
This man was barefoot, holding a paintbrush, streaked with color.
Aarav.
He was handsome — but not in the polished way of nobility. His face had the rugged softness of someone who lived through his art. Eyes like ink. Skin darkened by sun and dust. And his hand was resting, protectively, over Meera's.
Anaya felt a strange ache in her chest. Not jealousy. Not admiration.
Recognition?
Her hand trembled as she flipped the photo over. There was a date. July 2nd, 1984 — three weeks before Meera's supposed death.
And a line in Meera's handwriting: "We exist only in the colors we dare to love."
✦ Psychological Layer: Identity Bleed
Later that afternoon, while exploring the rest of the Rang Mahal, Anaya stood before the mural again. She examined the brushwork. Delicate. Classical. But there was something wrong about it.
The flowers behind Meera were painted after her figure — the strokes layered unnaturally.
Someone had tried to cover something up.
Anaya stepped closer. The paint behind Meera's head was cracked slightly, barely noticeable. But under the light — it shimmered.
Like another image was underneath.
Suddenly her head spun. The room blurred. She clutched the frame to steady herself, and in a single flash—
She wasn't in the present anymore.
✦ Flashback Sequence (Dreamlike)
The Rang Mahal pulsed with color. Music drifted through the air. Meera danced barefoot across the courtyard, her ghungroos soft against the stone. Aarav stood behind her, painting. He smiled, then stopped.
"Don't move," he whispered. "Right there. That look — the way you look at me when no one sees."
Meera froze, blushing.
"But what if someone sees?" she asked.
"No one dares enter the Rang Mahal. It belongs to your soul. And mine."
Then, a crash — the courtyard gate opening.
Footsteps. Heavy. Urgent.
Meera gasped.
And the color drained from everything.
✦ Snap Back to Present
Anaya jerked back, gasping. Her heart thundered.
She'd lost time — twenty minutes, maybe more.
She stepped back from the mural, her hands stained faintly with old pigment.
"You're losing it," she whispered.
But a voice in her mind — her own, or Meera's? — whispered back: "You're remembering."
✦ Clue in the Kitchen
Later, in the old kitchen, she found Gopal instructing a maid about the evening's bhog.
She noticed a small ledger tucked near the spice rack — water-stained and hidden behind sacks of atta. Curiosity prickled.
She flipped through it.
Grocery lists. Salaries. And then...
"July 5th, 1984 – Ordered ghee for second kitchen – Meera bai insisted on separate food for the painter. Dinesh saw her give him silver bangle. Must speak to malik."
Her blood ran cold.
So the servants had known.
Had her grandfather known?
She had to find Dinesh. Or his family.
She turned to Gopal.
"Do you remember a man named Dinesh? He worked here in the 80s."
Gopal stiffened. "Dinesh passed long ago. But his daughter... Rekha... lives in the village still. Runs the bangle stall near the temple."
✦ Suspense Rises: Rekha's Truth
That evening, Anaya walked to the village. The sun dipped low, bathing the world in amber.
Rekha was a stout woman with piercing eyes and bangles up to her elbows. When Anaya mentioned her grandmother's name, Rekha's face darkened.
"I was only ten when it happened," she said. "But I remember the screams."
"Screams?"
"The night before Meera died. I saw her — bruised. She came to the back of the haveli crying. Gave my father this..."
Rekha pulled out a small cloth pouch.
Inside was a silver payal (anklet) — delicate, engraved with Meera's initials.
"She told my father: 'If anything happens to me, keep this. The truth will return one day through a woman with my eyes.'"
Anaya's hands shook as she held the anklet.
That was the night.
That was when everything changed.
✦ Return to the Rang Mahal: The Hidden Wall
Back at the haveli, Anaya returned to the Rang Mahal after midnight.
No torch this time.
Just the weight of Meera's voice echoing in her skull.
She examined the wall behind the mural again. Something still felt wrong.
She tapped gently.
Hollow.
And then she noticed it — a line in the mural that didn't match the rest. A crack, just barely visible.
She pushed.
The wall creaked.
And slowly, the mural swung open.
It wasn't a painting.
It was a door.
Behind it: a hidden room. Small. Dark. Cold.
And on the floor, surrounded by dried rose petals and decayed offerings...
...lay a second mural.
Faded. Blood-spattered.
It showed Meera — but this time, her neck was cut.
And painted beside her was a man — Aarav — bound and burning.
Anaya stumbled back, gagging.
Paint didn't bleed like that.
But this one had.
She stepped forward, trembling — and noticed a pile of rags in the corner. She pulled them aside.
A diary.
Stuck to the floor with something dry and blackened.
She peeled it open.
On the inside cover: "If you found this… then you were meant to."
The Last Page
She turned to the final page.
The ink was shaky. A confession. Dated the day of Meera's death.
"They killed him. My father, my husband, my brother. They watched as they burned him. I screamed, but they sealed the wing. Told the world I died in childbirth. But I was here. Watching. Trapped behind my own eyes. Aarav's soul is bound in the mural. Only love can set him free. And if she finds this — my granddaughter — then she must decide: revenge… or redemption."
A gust of wind blew out the diya behind her.
And in the dead silence…
A man's voice whispered from the corner:
"Anaya..."