📕 The Secret She Buried
By: A.S Writes
Genre: Mystery • Drama • Emotion • Past Secrets
Language: English
Chapter 1: The Whispering Soil
The evening sky was painted with strange silence. No birds flew overhead, and the air stood still — like even nature was afraid to move. The old neem tree behind the abandoned Sharma house creaked as if whispering secrets only the wind could hear.
Aarushi stood barefoot in the backyard, her feet pressing into the soft, damp soil. Her long kurta was muddy from the knees, and her hands were trembling as she held a small, rusted tin box.
She had just dug a shallow hole behind the house — the same house where she had spent most of her childhood... and the same place she had stopped visiting after that night seven years ago.
The tin box was old and dented, but it held more weight than anyone could imagine.
Inside were three things — a torn page from a diary, a black-and-white photo of two smiling teenagers, and a silver ring… with faded brown stains that she never dared to wipe clean.
Aarushi sat on her knees, her breathing uneven. Her hands clutched the box tightly, as if her past would slip out if she loosened her grip.
She had buried this box once before.
But she had come back.
Not to revisit memories — but to bury them deeper.
"You promised me, Aarushi… You’ll never tell anyone."
The voice echoed in her mind — sharp, chilling, unforgettable.
She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her chest ached with the pressure of secrets she had carried alone for so long.
Tears welled up, but she didn’t let them fall.
Not again.
She slowly placed the box inside the hole. As her fingers dropped the last handful of soil over it, thunder rumbled in the distance. A chill ran down her spine. It was as if the sky was warning her: “You can hide it, but it won’t stay hidden.”
Once the hole was filled, she pressed the ground hard, trying to erase all traces of the act.
Her palms were scraped. Her breathing had steadied.
But her heart… it was still trapped in that one night.
She stood up, brushing the soil off her kurta. Just as she turned to leave, her eyes froze.
Footprints.
Fresh ones. In the mud.
And not hers.
Aarushi’s breath caught. Her eyes scanned the backyard, heart pounding.
Someone had been there.
Watching her.
Silently.
She didn’t shout. She didn’t run.
She simply picked up her dupatta from the tree branch, wrapped it around her, and walked inside the old house — but her mind was already screaming.
Inside, the house was quiet, but not peaceful.
The walls were cracked. The furniture covered in white sheets.
But to her, this place was still alive — with memories, laughter… and blood.
She walked to the living room, her footsteps light, her ears sharp.
No sound.
No shadow.
But she could feel it.
Someone knew.
A soft knock came on the front door.
She gasped. Who could it be? No one knew she had returned.
She opened the door slowly — no one.
Only a small white envelope resting on the floor.
She bent down, picked it up with shaking fingers, and opened it.
Inside was a single note.
“I know what you buried.”
