For a long time, neither of us spoke.
The lake stretched out before us, calm and silent, as if it had no idea how many lives had been shattered because of a single missing flash drive.
Aisha.
The name kept repeating inside my head.
Three years ago, she had been alive.
Scared.
Running.
Trying to tell us something.
And now she was gone.
All because of a secret no one seemed willing to let die.
I looked at Meera.
"Why didn't you tell me about her?"
Her shoulders tensed.
"I wanted to."
"Then why didn't you?"
A sad smile appeared on her face.
"Because every time I thought about telling you, I remembered how much pain it caused before."
I couldn't argue with that.
The truth was, I had only remembered fragments of the past.
Meera had carried the entire thing alone.
For three years.
The wind picked up slightly, sending ripples across the lake.
Meera stared at the water.
"There was one place we always went whenever things became complicated."
Something about the way she said it made me pay attention.
"What place?"
Her eyes met mine.
"The old boathouse."
A strange feeling stirred inside me.
Not a memory.
A feeling.
Recognition.
Like hearing the name of a place I'd forgotten but once loved.
"It's near the northern side of the lake," she continued. "Almost abandoned now."
I frowned.
"And?"
Meera hesitated.
"That's where we hid things."
My pulse quickened.
"What kind of things?"
She gave me a look.
"The kind of things you don't want other people finding."
An hour later, we were standing near the edge of the lake.
The northern side looked completely different from the area near the park.
Fewer people.
More trees.
Less noise.
The old wooden boathouse sat quietly near the water, weathered by years of rain and neglect.
The structure looked fragile enough to collapse at any moment.
Yet the moment I saw it—
Something clicked.
A flash.
Not painful this time.
Clear.
Meera laughing while trying to unlock the door.
My hand holding a paper bag full of coffee.
Sunlight reflecting off the lake.
The memory vanished almost instantly.
But it left behind warmth.
A real memory.
Not fear.
Not pain.
Just happiness.
I stopped walking.
Meera noticed immediately.
"What happened?"
I looked at the building.
"We were happy here."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
For a second, Meera looked stunned.
Then her eyes softened.
"Yeah."
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
"We were."
The old lock was rusted but still functional.
Meera pulled a small key from her bag.
I stared at her.
"You still have the key?"
A faint smile appeared.
"I kept a lot of things."
The answer hurt more than it should have.
Because while I'd forgotten everything...
She had preserved every piece of it.
The door creaked open.
Dust filled the air immediately.
Sunlight filtered through cracks in the wooden walls.
The interior was small.
A few broken chairs.
Old shelves.
Fishing equipment left behind years ago.
Nothing unusual.
At first glance.
Then I noticed something.
A loose floorboard near the corner.
And suddenly another memory surfaced.
Me kneeling beside it.
Hiding something.
My breathing became uneven.
"Arjun?"
I pointed toward the floor.
"That."
Meera froze.
Slowly, she followed my gaze.
And her expression changed instantly.
Because she remembered too.
Together, we moved toward the corner.
The floorboard lifted surprisingly easily.
Beneath it was a small hollow space.
Empty.
Completely empty.
My stomach dropped.
"No."
Meera's face turned pale.
"No, no, no..."
She knelt beside the opening, searching desperately.
But there was nothing there.
No flash drive.
No documents.
Nothing.
Someone had already been here.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The realization settled heavily between us.
If the hiding place was empty, then one of two things had happened.
Either someone found it.
Or someone moved it.
Neither possibility felt reassuring.
I sat down heavily on one of the old chairs.
"Three years."
My voice sounded hollow.
"Three years of secrets, lies, memory loss, accidents..."
I looked at the empty compartment.
"And the thing we've been searching for isn't even here."
Meera sat quietly beside me.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
A soft laugh.
Not because anything was funny.
Because life had become absurd.
I found myself laughing too.
For the first time in weeks, neither of us talked about trauma.
Or conspiracies.
Or memory erasure.
We just sat there laughing at how ridiculous everything had become.
Eventually, the laughter faded.
The silence that followed felt lighter somehow.
Comfortable.
Meera leaned back against the wall.
"You know something?"
"What?"
"You used to do that."
"Do what?"
"Laugh when things got too stressful."
I smiled.
"Sounds unhealthy."
"It absolutely was."
For a moment, everything felt normal again.
And somehow, those moments were becoming more important than the mysteries.
Because they reminded me what we were fighting for.
Not answers.
Each other.
Then something caught my eye.
A small carving on the wooden wall.
Hidden beneath years of dust.
I stood immediately.
"What is it?"
Without answering, I wiped away the dust with my sleeve.
Letters slowly appeared.
Hand-carved.
Old.
Faded.
But still readable.
A + M
Beneath it was a date.
Three years old.
Meera stared at it.
Then laughed softly.
"Oh my God."
I looked at her.
"You did this?"
"You did."
"Seriously?"
"You said it was romantic."
I groaned.
"That sounds like something I'd do."
"It absolutely sounds like something you'd do."
For the first time since finding the empty compartment, both of us smiled genuinely.
Then I noticed something else.
Another carving.
Smaller.
Hidden beneath the first one.
My smile disappeared instantly.
Because this one wasn't romantic.
It wasn't even personal.
It was a message.
Written in my own handwriting.
Three words.
LOOK INSIDE BOAT.
My pulse quickened.
Meera stood immediately.
"What?"
I pointed at the carving.
Her face drained of color.
Because we both understood the same thing.
The compartment had never been the real hiding place.
It had been a decoy.
A distraction.
Something the old version of me had expected people to find.
Slowly, both of us turned toward the old wooden boat resting upside down in the corner of the boathouse.
Covered in dust.
Forgotten.
Waiting.
Before either of us could move—
A loud sound echoed outside.
Footsteps.
Multiple footsteps.
Coming toward the boathouse.
Fast.
Meera's eyes widened.
I felt my heart slam against my ribs.
Because whoever was outside...
Wasn't here by accident.
And judging by the number of footsteps—
We weren't alone anymore.