Chapter 21: Echoes Don’t Lie
The room felt colder now.
Not because of the faulty vents, or the flickering lights, or the concrete walls that seemed to hold their breath — but because something inside her had just shifted.
That smile.
Her smile.
Not present-Arwa. Not the one who was biting down on her cheek to keep from trembling.
It was another version. One that knew more.
"Why would I smile at the camera?" she whispered.
Zayaan didn't answer right away.
Instead, he stepped back from the monitor like it had burned him. Like looking too long at that version of her would unravel everything they were just starting to understand.
"You don't remember doing it," he said. "But your body does."
Arwa looked at him sharply. "You sound like you've been through this."
"I have," he said. "Twice."
A beat.
She waited. He didn't elaborate.
He picked up another hard drive and slotted it into the machine like muscle memory. Another file. Another timestamp.
This one: Zayaan – Room 309 – Two months ago.
She turned to him, but he was already facing the screen.
The footage loaded slowly, screen cracking with pixels like it was trying to resist being seen. Then—
Zayaan. Sitting on the edge of his bed. Hands gripping the frame. His mouth was moving...but there was no sound.
"Can you lip-read?" he asked without looking at her.
She shook her head. "Can you?"
"No," he said. "But I don't need to."
He fast-forwarded to the mark — minute five. Then pressed play.
And there it was.
His smile.
Identical to hers. Timed just before the loop reset.
Arwa felt it deep in her gut — that sick, clenching sensation of a pattern she hadn't noticed until now.
"How long has this all been happening?" she asked in a tight voice.
"I don't know," he said...
"But they started deleting memory files when people got too close. We only know what we've caught before they overwrite it."
"But how are we even catching it?" she asked. "If they're this careful—"
"Because they're rushing now," Zayaan interrupted. "You noticed things you weren't supposed to. And they know it. That loop wasn't perfect. The smile... it cracked the illusion."
Arwa sat down on the floor. Hard. She didn't even feel the cold seep through her clothes. Just the hum of realization growing louder in her chest.
They hadn't just erased memories.
They had replaced them.
And somewhere, deep inside the gaps of what she didn't remember, a version of her — smiling, waiting, knowing — was still playing on repeat.