After that day, I became more of a loner than ever. I chose to isolate myself, literally begging Khurshid to give me a break in my room—just one week to get my head straight and pull myself together. He reluctantly agreed to give me three days, no more.
There's this weird, sharp edge to my voice whenever I'm facing my fears. I always forget how small I am compared to them. Maybe I shouldn't have stood my ground; maybe running away was the move.
I went out at night just to catch some air. I sat there staring at the sky, talking to it like it was actually listening. I asked it what was happening to me—am I actually losing it? Everything points to "yes." I'm holding hundreds of pieces of evidence, I see and hear absolute horrors, yet I always end up back at "you're just crazy."
"That's happening because you're not thinking straight, is it?"
I spun around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash, trembling. I was supposed to be alone in the room—where did that voice come from? I swallowed hard, trying to gaslight myself into thinking I was just imagining things.
"No, I'm not a hallucination. I'm right here on your bed. Come see for yourself."
My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. I knew I had locked that door. I slowly approached the lamp and pointed the light toward the bed. There he was. The same man from my dreams—the father of that little girl. The one person who makes me feel safe and loved even when I'm just imagining him.
I cautiously asked him how he just appeared out of nowhere and who he even was. He smiled and said he's someone who loves me deeply and has missed me to death. When I pressed him for his identity, he just said, "Ask your heart, Madeleine."
I gasped. "Madeleine! Yes! Who is she? Please, tell me!"
He replied calmly, "I can't tell you right now. I just came to give you strength because I feel you, and I know you need me. Stay strong for me—and for Laila."
"Who's Laila?" I asked.
He kept it brief: "I don't have time for side quests right now. Just don't tell anyone I was here."
"Am I crazy?" I whispered.
"Of course not. You're strong, and I know you'll find your way back to us soon."
"Who are you?"
Silence was the only answer. He vanished like he was never there. But I have this gut feeling that I know him. He affects my whole being. He came to give me peace, a real support system. Finally, I felt like I could trust something.
Power surged through me. I replayed the scenes in my head, remembering that room where the séance happened. I tip-toed there and slowly opened the door. It was spotless. The man's voice echoed in my mind, telling me to look for any shred of evidence. I almost gave up after flipping the place upside down, but then something caught my eye—a tiny glint in the corner. I grabbed it. It was a small necklace the old woman used to wear. She definitely looked for it and couldn't find it. Now, it was in my hands.
You scammers... I'm 'crazy,' right? And the old lady 'left before breakfast'? Did the necklace just crawl here on its own? I took it and hid it deep under my bed. I tucked myself in, my mind racing like a motor, trying to figure out how to win this war against these villains. But first, I had to know: Who is Madeleine? Who is this man? And who is that little girl?
Sleep eventually took over, and I found myself in a dream again...
I saw the man sitting across from me at the dining table, buried in a newspaper. I snatched it from his hand and teased him, "Is there something in there more important than me?"
"Of course not, babe. But my new article just got published despite the editor's pushback. I was just checking to make sure they didn't cut anything."
"Is it about telepathy?"
"Yeah. You know how much this means to me. It's not a new concept, but people are clueless about it. I'm working hard to bring the idea to the masses."
"Teach me," I said.
"For you? Anything. My heart, my eyes, everything I own is yours."
He started teaching me his entire method, and I hung onto every word.
I was startled awake by a loud banging from the garden. That idiot gardener working early. I was lowkey annoyed because I wanted to learn more. But things were starting to click. Those dreams? They're core memories. And that visitor? He's someone trying to reach me through telepathy.
I have a theory, but I won't write it down until I'm 100% sure. I got dressed and walked out. It was the fourth day—the day my isolation ended. I was glowing because I was finally cracking the code. I sat at the breakfast table with an energy they weren't used to. Everyone gave me the side-eye except Khurshid, who looked genuinely happy to see me like this.
Later, I went to Khurshid's office. I put on a cheerful act, trying to make it look real.
"Khurshid, I have a few requests."
"Anything you want, it's done."
"I feel like painting again. Can you get me the supplies? And I want to borrow some books from your shelves."
"Of course. But what about your journal?"
"I haven't forgotten, but I'm feeling the art vibes right now. Writing can wait."
Right then, Madam Nazli walked in. She looked heated. Her face is usually cold and lifeless, but her anger now made Khurshid visibly tense. I didn't get the drama between them, and honestly, I didn't care. I was focused on my plan.
I left them alone to talk. Their conversation went like this:
"I love her, Mother. I'm obsessed. She's not like the others!"
That came from Khurshid. Nazli was fuming. She snapped at him, "Are you insane? Haven't I told you a thousand times—love is off-limits?"
"But she's captured my heart. Please, let's stop this. Don't you want to see your son happy?"
She spotted me eavesdropping through a crack in the door and went dead silent. She rushed toward me with an aggressive energy that totally broke her usual "ice queen" vibe. Before she could say a word, I told her that I loved Khurshid too and just wanted him happy. I told her I knew she was upset because her son's wife was "crazy" and couldn't give him peace. I promised her I'd work hard to get rid of my "delusions" for my dear husband.
That's how I dodged a bullet. Khurshid rushed to me, kissed my forehead, and promised everything would be okay. He looked at Nazli defiantly as he said it. He said goodbye before heading out to take care of some estate business. I asked to borrow those books again, and he told me I had total "free rein" to take whatever I wanted.
I scanned the shelves like a hawk for anything on telepathy. After a while, I was exhausted but I didn't give up. Finally, I found it. I grabbed two other random books so nobody would get suspicious and bolted to my room.
I opened the book and looked up the telepathy method. It was exactly what the man in my dream told me.
I followed the steps to a T: total relaxation, dim lights, imagining the other person's aura as a circle around them. If you're a newbie, keep the message short.
I visualized him as he appeared before. I asked one short question: "Who are you?"
I jumped when he appeared right in front of me, speaking out loud. No dream, no imagination. He was there.
No time to panic. I asked again, "Who are you?"
He looked confused. "I don't know why you've been shutting me out lately, but I'm so glad I finally broke through that wall between us."
"Just answer me, don't waste time. Who. Are. You?"
"Fine... I'm Jalal. Your husband, Madeleine."
"Madeleine! Who is Madeleine?"
"That's you."
"I have amnesia. I don't know anything about my life. Tell me."
"You're a famous writer—Madeleine Alam El-Din. You've been missing for a year."
"A year? Missing? Is that girl in my dreams my daughter?"
"Yes. You need to cut the connection now. You're not a pro at this and your mental state is fragile. Don't overtax your brain. I'll come back whenever I can."
The connection broke. I had a name. I had an identity. This was the key to getting my soul back.
Khurshid came into my room later with the things I asked for. I thanked him profusely, telling him how much I enjoyed the books and how I felt so much more "enlightened" thanks to him.
I didn't expect him to be such a pushover. Has no one ever been nice to you, man? I could practically hear his heart skipping a beat. I officially found his weakness.
I dug deeper into the book to see if this "physical manifestation" was normal. Apparently, in rare cases where two souls are extremely bonded, they can visualize each other so vividly it feels like they're in the same room. It's purely sensory.
This means that man and I are incredibly close. Even if my brain forgot him, my soul gravitates toward him.
I memorized every word in that book. I went back to the office to return it before anyone noticed.
"Madeleine Alam El-Din." I kept repeating the name until I remembered seeing it on some books. I searched again and found two of my own novels. I grabbed them. One was a horror/crime thriller. On the first page, the author bio said:
"The author is married to the brilliant psychiatrist, Jalal Abu Al-Makarem; the secret weapon behind her deep dives into the minds of the mentally ill and criminals."
Exactly what he said. He's Jalal. My husband.
Step one: Get off these meds and injections Khurshid keeps giving me. I used paper and makeup to create a "fake skin" patch and applied it perfectly over my vein. As for the pills, I'd let him think I swallowed them, then spit them out.
Everything went according to plan. Being "extra" with Khurshid made him relax around me. Their mind games stopped for a bit, and I started feeling like myself again. During the injections, I'd distract him so he wouldn't notice the fake skin. I'd hide the pills under my tongue and spit them out the second he turned around. I'd fake sleep so he'd feel like I was totally under his thumb. I gave him exactly what he wanted to see.
Memory is a tricky thing. It's petty. It forces you to remember the absolute worst things...
While making you forget the things you're desperate to hold onto.
I've yelled at my own brain for this. I've practically hit my head against the wall, but nothing.
It's like my memory took a military oath to wage an unfair war against me, making sure it wins every single round.
Fine. Fight me with some honor, dear memory. Don't forget you're a part of me—we shouldn't be tearing each other apart like this.