Viren led Vihaan and Myra to a quiet corner of the shop, where dust-covered books lined the shelves. Arjun followed, carrying a small wooden box with brass engravings.
"My great-grandfather left behind several records," Viren said, carefully unlocking the box. "Sketches, notes, and letters… all tied to a mystery he once uncovered."
Vihaan and Myra leaned in as Viren pulled out a stack of yellowed papers. The topmost one was a sketch—two faces, drawn with meticulous detail. Their own faces.
Vihaan's throat went dry.
"This was drawn by Professor Virender himself," Viren continued. "He believed that history had a way of repeating itself."
Arjun handed them another paper. It was a page from a journal, written in faded ink.
"If they ever return… they must follow the path where their story ended. Only then will they know why it began."
A shiver ran through Myra. "This means…" she trailed off, looking at Vihaan.
"We have to go to the Rathore estate," Vihaan finished.
Viren and Arjun exchanged glances.
"The estate is abandoned," Arjun said. "People say it's cursed."
Vihaan exhaled. "We've come too far to stop now."
Viren sighed, looking at Vihaan and Myra with knowing eyes. "If you really want to understand, go to the old city archives," he said. "The truth is there, recorded in history—the life of a sketch artist named Veer."
Vihaan and Myra exchanged a glance. The name stirred something deep within them, something unexplainable.
"The archives?" Myra asked.
Viren nodded. "Professor Virender ensured that what Satya and Saanvi uncovered was preserved. The city may have moved on, but history does not forget." He paused before adding, "It's time you see it for yourselves."
Without hesitation, Vihaan and Myra set out for the archives. The building was old, its wooden doors creaking as they stepped inside. Rows of books and records stretched endlessly, the scent of aged paper filling the air.
A librarian guided them to a section labeled Historical Records of Rathore Estate.
Vihaan pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. The cover bore an inscription:
"The Life and Betrayal of Veer Rathore, the Royal Sketch Artist."
As he opened the pages, Myra's breath caught.
There, in detailed writing and sketches, was the story of a man whose fate had been sealed long ago. A story of love, loss, and betrayal—one that felt far too familiar.
Their past had been waiting for them.
And now, it was time to remember.