Reborn: The truth behind the love

Ishaani placed her prison uniform on the upper bunk and stepped into the bathroom. She had always been obsessed with cleanliness since childhood—not in an extreme way, but she couldn't stand mess.

The moment she saw the state of the room, her stomach turned. The grime, the dust—it was so bad she feared she might throw up the bread she had eaten for breakfast. Covering her nose with a scarf, she entered the bathroom, where a leaky tap dripped steadily into a half-filled bucket.

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the broom and swept away the spiderwebs clinging to the walls. She cleared the clutter from her bunk, stripped the dirty sheets, and scrubbed them clean before hanging them outside to dry in the sun.

All the while, Anjali's ghost hovered nearby, her presence making Ishaani's already sour mood worse. The ghost stared at her with wide, lost eyes, shrinking into the corner like a frightened puppy.

Sighing, Ishaani reached out and patted Anjali's head. "Wait here," she said softly. "Let me finish cleaning, and then I'll tell you a story, okay?"

At the word *story*, Anjali's eyes lit up like a child's. Ishaani shook her head. Ever since Anjali had lost her memory, she had become so innocent. Strangely, now that Anjali didn't remember her past, Ishaani could actually touch her. *Why?* The mystery still puzzled her.

Once she was sure Anjali was sitting quietly on the bunk, Ishaani filled the bucket with water and got to work. She scrubbed the sticky floors and the stained bathroom tiles until they gleamed.

After a quick bath, she shook out the clean sheets and spread them over her bed. She pushed open the window, letting fresh air and sunlight chase away the damp, musty smell. As she tucked in the corners, she spotted a few mosquito repellent sticks and a matchbox. She lit one and wedged it between the loose bricks in the wall, watching the thin smoke curl upward.

For the first time since arriving, the room felt a little more like hers.

When Ishaani finally settled down, Anjali—who had been lying motionless on the bunk—lifted her head and patted the space beside her. *"Story,"* she demanded, her eyes wide with expectation.

A small smile tugged at Ishaani's lips. The ghost's childish behavior reminded her of her younger brothers, who used to beg for bedtime stories every night. They'd refuse to sleep until she spun them a tale.

Lost in the memory, she didn't notice Anjali waving a hand in front of her face. *"Sis,"* the ghost called in a tiny voice, *"it's story time."*

Shaking her head, Ishaani stretched out beside her and began to speak, her voice soft and rhythmic. She patted Anjali's back as the story unfolded, but before they could reach the end, exhaustion pulled them both into sleep.

Ishaani woke to the sound of loud chatter and heavy footsteps approaching. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced beside her—Anjali was still curled up, fast asleep. *Sometimes, I can't tell if she's a ghost or just a lost child,* she thought.

A sharp knock at the door startled her. Outside, three women were talking and laughing, but the moment Ishaani opened the door, they fell silent, staring at her.

A petite woman in her forties—chewing on something—spoke first. *"Welcome back, roommate,"* she said, raising an eyebrow. *"Didn't think you'd still be alive."*

Ishaani blinked, unsure how to respond to such a greeting. She forced a polite smile and stepped aside to let them in.

The plump woman with curly hair gasped as she entered, turning to the eldest—a woman in her sixties. *"Sister, did we walk into the wrong room?"* she asked, eyes scanning the spotless floor and fresh-smelling air. *"Where's the sticky floor? The mold? The spiderwebs?"*

All three women gaped, their mouths hanging open.

Ishaani scratched the back of her neck, suddenly self-conscious. *"Uh… I cleaned up a bit,"* she admitted.

As one, the trio turned to stare at her, their expressions shifting from shock to something like awe. *"You're incredible,"* their silence seemed to say.