One Step Across

The humming didn't stop.

It wasn't loud — barely more than a thread of sound. But it was constant. Soft. Repeating, the same three notes over and over like a broken lullaby.

Sameer whispered, "That's her."

Ayaan nodded once, slowly.

He could feel it too — the wrongness of this place.

Not evil. Not magical.

But mournful. Like walking into a space that had been grieving for years.

Rehan kept one hand on the tunnel wall. "This was here all along… beneath everything. Beneath us."

The light ahead flickered — not harsh, not inviting.

Just there.

Like a candle left burning, in a room that no one was supposed to return to.

---

They reached the end of the tunnel...

A round chamber opened before them, the ceiling low, the air thick.

And in the center — a chair.

Wooden. Small.

Facing the wall.

Someone sat in it.

Not moving.

Sameer froze. "Zoya?"

The humming stopped.

The silence that followed wasn't natural.

It was a silence you felt in your teeth.

Ayaan stepped forward slowly. His throat was dry.

The figure didn't turn.

Sameer took a breath and walked past him. "Zoya, it's me."

The girl in the chair didn't move — not until he said her name again.

"…Zoya."

Then, slowly… she tilted her head.

Only slightly.

And said nothing.

---

Rehan stepped closer.

But something tugged at him — not physically, not even spiritually.

Just… a memory.

Of firelight.

Of a dare.

Of someone being left behind.

He remembered Zoya sitting just like this. At the edge of the camp, legs tucked under her, quiet, humming the same notes.

And they ignored her.

He squeezed his eyes shut...

"I'm sorry," he said aloud. "We should've come back."

The girl in the chair exhaled.

Like air escaping from a balloon that had been full for years.

---

Suddenly — her voice.

"You didn't forget me."

She still didn't turn.

"You buried me."

Sameer stepped closer. "We were scared. We didn't know—"

"You knew," she whispered. "You knew the way back. You just didn't want to return with less than you came with."

Sameer's breath caught.

Rehan lowered his head.

But Ayaan — he stepped beside the chair.

And gently placed his hand on the back of it.

"We didn't know how to carry what we lost," he said. "We still don't. But we're here now."

The chair creaked.

And Zoya turned.

Just her head.

Her face was pale. Her eyes weren't angry.

They were tired. So, so tired.

"You should've come sooner."

---

Back in the city…

Naira's phone buzzed.

A file had auto-synced from Sameer's cloud storage.

Unopened for years.

Video.

She tapped it.

It showed Sameer — younger. Sitting on a swing.

Filming himself.

"I thought we'd forget," he said, voice shaky. "But sometimes the forest comes back in dreams. Sometimes I see her face in reflections. I think the others do too. We just don't say it."

He looked down.

"She didn't vanish. She stayed behind."

Then the camera cut out.

Naira stared at the black screen.

And in the reflection of her window —

A girl was standing behind her.

---

Back in the tunnel…

Zoya rose from the chair.

She didn't move like a ghost.

She moved like someone who waited too long.

And when she stood fully, she was just a girl.

Broken, but real.

Sameer's voice broke. "Can we take you back?"

She looked at them, her eyes full.

"You're not here to take me anywhere."

Pause.

"You're here to finish what you started."

The walls of the chamber trembled.

Not a collapse.

A heartbeat.

Something had just woken up.

Not her.

The forest.

---