He clicked.

Arjun pushed his chair back. The laptop screen flickered. The clock on the wall ticked toward midnight. December 15th. But the folder said January 1st.

Arjun’s hands shook. Meera. His dead wife. The archive had been his way of preserving her. But this—this was a door he had never seen.

The cup was on the counter. Steam rising. No one was there.

Arjun closed the laptop. He stood up. He walked to the kitchen, his bare feet cold on the stone floor.

There was another file inside. Nested like a Russian doll.