11

The Memory That Wasn't Hers

Silence had a weight of its own inside the Suryavanshi vault. It wasn't just the absence of sound; it felt like a physical pressure, suffocating and ancient, holding back a century of buried secrets.

Vennela stared at the frayed, torn binding where the missing page had been violently ripped away. Beside her, Dev remained motionless, his hand still resting against the mahogany table.

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Maya

A writer who prefer imagination and illustion