Echoes Behind Closed Doors Act II – Cracks in the Mirror

Aanya had always moved carefully around the house. But lately, she moved like a shadow—quiet, half-there, watching more than speaking.

That evening, the house was unusually still.

Rhea’s car was in the driveway, but her bedroom door was slightly ajar—something she never did. Aanya paused on the stairs, heart thudding, when she heard the faint hum of a phone call.

Then a voice. Sharp. Fast. Familiar.

“—Of course, he believes me. That’s the thing with men like Rajeev. You give them softness, a few tears, and they’ll hand you the steering wheel.”

Aanya’s blood turned cold.

She crept closer. Barefoot. Breath held.

Rhea was pacing inside, wireless earbuds in, back turned to the door.

“I told him Aanya’s been disrespecting me. Acting out. Not eating, lying, skipping class. The usual ‘troubled teenager’ act. You know the type.”

A pause. A laugh.

“He’s so desperate to keep this marriage peaceful, he’d rather believe I’m a victim than ask his daughter what’s going on.”

Aanya’s hand trembled as she slid her phone from her pocket.

Record.

“Honestly, the girl just reminds me too much of her mother. All that sensitivity and drama. I’ve worked too hard for this life to let some moody brat ruin it.”

Click.

Save.

The sound cut off suddenly. Aanya realized too late: silence had fallen.

Rhea turned.

“Aanya?”

She was at the doorway before Aanya could move.

“What are you doing here?”

“I—” Aanya fumbled; phone hidden behind her. “I was just going to the kitchen.”

Rhea’s eyes narrowed. But her tone stayed syrupy. “You should knock, darling. It’s rude to linger near someone’s bedroom.”

She stepped aside, a cool smile curling her lips. “Go on. Don’t keep yourself hungry.”

Aanya walked away slowly. Back straight. Chin high.

But inside, every nerve screamed.

She had the recording. Real proof.

Not just emotional bruises. Not just suspicion.

She texted Nisha the second she reached her room:

Aanya: I got her. I recorded everything. She admitted it.

Nisha: SEND IT TO ME RIGHT NOW.

Nisha: I’ll help back it up. This changes everything.

But Aanya knew something else too.

This wasn’t the end.

It was the beginning of a war she hadn’t asked for—but could no longer walk away from.

She backed up the file in three places.

Printed the transcript and hid it in a sketchbook.

And tucked the original recording behind a canvas in the art room the next day.

Just in case.