You'd think being fugitives would be glamorous. Spy gadgets, secret codes, maybe even matching trench coats.
Instead, it's a moldy cottage on the edge of a sleepy hill station where the Wi-Fi only works if you hold the router like a sacred relic and chant "please" repeatedly.
And trench coats? I wore a hoodie Rohan bought from a roadside stall that says "TACO CATS ARE REAL" in fading glitter.
If someone wrote a movie about us, it would be part spy thriller, part fashion tragedy.
We'd been off-grid for five days. Rohan insisted it was for our safety. "They're still watching the cities," he said, tapping his phone which was now permanently off. "You're a hero to some people and a target to others. We need to disappear for a while."
So we did. Into pine trees and fog, away from everything.
But even in hiding, life kept throwing drama at us like it had a subscription.
---
The Cabin and the Secrets
The cottage belonged to a friend of a friend of Rohan's. It had no neighbors, no television, and no fridge. Just a fireplace, creaky floors, and a silence that felt like it was waiting for someone to confess something.
I cooked. He chopped wood. We talked.
Well, mostly I talked. Rohan had started doing this thing where he'd drift off mid-conversation, his brow furrowed like he was solving math in his head.
When I asked, "What's wrong?"
He'd say, "Nothing."
When I asked again, he kissed me.
Which, okay, was effective. But also suspicious.
Isha sent us encrypted updates through a burner email. Apex was still reeling. The media loved me. Memes about "Delivery Girl Destroys Evil Empire" were trending.
But beneath the celebration, there was fear. An anonymous source had leaked a partial list of other test subjects.
My name was there. So was Rohan's.
And one more caught my eye.
Zarina Malik.
My old college roommate. The one who disappeared sophomore year.
I didn't tell Rohan.
Not yet.
---
Midnight Messages
That night, the wind howled so loud it sounded like ghosts were gossiping outside. I couldn't sleep.
I opened my laptop, just to write — or at least to type "what is wrong with my boyfriend" into a Google doc.
But a new message was waiting.
Sender: Unknown
Subject: You've only uncovered half the truth.
Message: Zarina remembers. She's waiting.
I froze.
Before I could reply, the message vanished.
Deleted itself.
I stared at the screen, heart hammering.
Why now? Why Zarina? And how did someone know we were here?
I turned toward the couch, where Rohan slept — or pretended to. His back was to me, the blanket rising and falling steadily.
Suddenly, I felt like I didn't know what was more dangerous — Apex, or the space growing quietly between us.
---
Cracks and Questions
The next morning, I confronted him.
Not dramatically. No throwing mugs or accusing monologues.
Just quietly, over two steaming cups of chai.
"Do you know someone named Zarina?"
His hand paused mid-sip.
"I... might," he said, eyes unreadable. "Why?"
"Because she was part of the same project. She's alive. And someone wants me to find her."
He stood up, pacing.
"Listen, Aanya, this isn't something we can just chase blindly. Whoever sent that message could be trying to lure you into a trap. Apex has layers. Deep ones."
"So you do know her."
"I didn't say that."
I stood too, voice rising. "You didn't say anything lately. Not about what you've been reading on that hard drive. Not about what's eating you from the inside. I'm not just someone you saved, Rohan. I'm your partner. Tell me the truth."
He looked at me then — really looked. Like I was the only fixed thing in a world spinning off its axis.
"I'm scared," he said simply. "There's something on that drive I didn't want you to see. About your tests. About what they did to your emotions. It's worse than I thought."
I swallowed. "How bad?"
"They didn't just manipulate your feelings."
Pause.
"They erased some."
---
Memory Ghosts
I sat down.
Hard.
All this time, I thought maybe someone had created feelings in me — for Rohan, for my past. But the idea that someone had taken them?
That I'd forgotten parts of myself?
What else was gone?
"Do you think..." I couldn't finish the sentence. "Do you think my love for you was erased?"
Rohan knelt in front of me. "No. Because it's here now. Real. Tangible. Every time you hold my hand. Every time you argue about the right way to make chai."
I half-laughed, half-sobbed. "You burn the tea leaves, admit it."
"I create bold flavor," he argued.
And just like that, the world steadied.
But the questions stayed.
If Zarina remembered what I forgot, could she give me back what they took?
And if I found out who I was before, would I still want who I am now?
---
On the Road Again
We packed by sunset.
The burner phone buzzed again. Coordinates.
A train station, two towns over.
Isha was arranging an extraction — if we wanted it.
"I'm with you," Rohan said, zipping the last bag.
"I know," I said.
But this time, I wondered if we were walking into something even more tangled than before.
The heart has many doors. I was about to open one I never remembered closing.
---
End of Chapter 18