Chapter 1. 'seventeen years later'
An endless ocean, an ice wasteland with a huge river of stars like white colour drops. Shining without a worry from the small balcony.
But that sky wasn't so pretty, not today. Not for her.
“Well, after 17 years, this is a very emotional reunion,” she said sarcastically, looking sideways at the broken cup and the puddle of tea on the floor.
The whole room was glowing bright red because of the red lamp, making it look like something out of a horror movie.
In front of her. In the red light. Paper white, no mouth, no nose. It had the shape of an ordinary human face, stretched slightly long and smooth, its surface almost unnaturally clean. A faint ridge ran down the centre, dividing the face into two perfect halves.There was no smile, no frown, no expression at all. Just an empty expanse of white where a face should have been.
And then there were the eyes.
There were two holes in the front, and she could see eyes staring at her through them—narrow and half-lidded, drawn like thin, elegant slashes beneath gently arched brows. Dark shading gathered beneath the upper lids, making them look bruised with exhaustion.
“Did you steal a ten-year-old’s craft project for your mask?” she asked, looking the figure in the eyes.
The figure slightly tiles its head almost like it was smiling. Even though nothing about it was innocent.
It was dressed entirely in loose, layered black clothing, giving its the appearance of someone belonging to a secretive cult.
Their clothing hangs heavily from their body, with rough, worn fabric and layered pieces creating a ritualistic, old-fashioned appearance. Small dark ornaments and charms hang around her neck and clothing.
“Ananya,” it said.
Ananya almost flinched at her own name. The person behind the mask sounded nothing like she remembered but honestly she doesn't remember. Just When was the last time she heard them?.
“You haven't changed at all.” It stopped tilting its head and went back to staring at her. “Still the same.”
“And how do you know that? I don't think we've met before,” Ananya said.
What was she thinking? Of course it's not the same person. They can't be.
The person cackles, loud, filling the room with it.
What the heck? Ananya thought.
“Oh, but we have! Many times. We used to live in the same house together, remember?” they said, their eyes narrowing as if they were smiling.
“Cut the shit, I know you're not her,” Ananya said.
“And why are you so sure about it?”
Why was she so sure? She wasn't just sure, she knew it. The woman couldn't be her mother because Ananya was the one wh—
“I'm sooo sure because dead people don't come back to life,” Ananya said.
The moment she said that, the person behind the mask started laughing loud and hard this time. A Shoulders shaking laugh.
Ananya flinched but she didn't take her
eyes off them, not even for a second.
She stared them dead in the eyes.
“Well, you're not exactly wrong,” they said, wiping their eyes. “But this rule doesn't apply to people who didn't actually die. They can come back.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Ananya hissed.
She was starting to get pissed off, slamming her fist on the table beside her.
“Stop this stupid game and listen. Sana Rao is dead. In fact, she's been dead for years, and the whole world knows it. I couldn't care less about it. So who the fuck are you? Why did you break into my house? And what do you want from me?” She paused, then added, “Why are you pretending to be my mother?”
Silence filled the room for a few minutes and then-
The person took the mask off their face.
The moment Ananya saw them, Ananya's eyes widened.
Warm, deep-brown skin and jet-black, wavy hair.
Her eyes were dark brown, almost black in the red light.
and a small beauty mark just beneath her left eye.
The same face, the same face, the same face, THE SAME FUCKING FACE.
“Mother?” Ananya whispered.
