Find out about what?
The question echoed loudly in my mind, but I didn't have the courage to say it out loud. My thoughts were scattered, crashing into each other like waves in a storm.
I cannot even hurt a fly…
That was the only thing running through my head. I had never even been involved in anything remotely close to violence, let alone something as terrible as kidnapping. The accusation felt unreal, like I had suddenly been thrown into someone else's nightmare.
Dad's voice pulled me out of my trance.
"The police called today," he said, his tone still filled with anger. "Following their investigation, they found the car that was used to kidnap your aunty Bella."
My heart skipped.
"They also found one of the kidnappers' phones in the car," he continued. "They accessed it… and your number was in it."
My breath caught in my throat.
"And I remember clearly," he added, his eyes narrowing at me, "that the SIM card is the one inside the phone I gave you—so you could communicate with me."
My mouth fell open.
"How…?" was the only word I could manage to say.
Nothing made sense. Absolutely nothing.
How could my number be in a kidnapper's phone? Who would even do something like that? And why me?
Before I could process it further, Dad's expression hardened even more.
"Go and get dressed," he ordered sharply. "You're coming with me to the police station to explain yourself."
"I didn't do it," I said immediately, my voice shaking. "I can't do it… I would never do something like that."
But it felt like my words were hitting a wall.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I knew it, they began to fall uncontrollably. My chest tightened painfully as I struggled to breathe properly.
My dad thinks I'm bad…
My mom hates me…
Why is my life like this?
The thoughts repeated over and over again in my head, each one heavier than the last.
I stood there at the doorway, crying, unable to move, unable to defend myself properly.
Then Mom walked toward me.
Her footsteps were slow but firm, and when she got close, the look on her face made my heart sink even deeper.
"These crocodile tears had better stop," she said coldly. "I never knew you were behind our predicament all this while."
Her words cut deeper than the slap.
"Go and take your bath immediately," she continued. "You will follow your father to the station. And if the police come here themselves, your punishment will not be mild."
I felt completely shattered.
It wasn't just the accusation anymore—it was the fact that they believed it so easily.
I dragged myself up slowly, my legs trembling beneath me, and made my way to the bathroom. Every step felt like I was carrying a weight too heavy for me to bear.
Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it.
Silence.
I turned on the tap, but I didn't move. I just stood there, staring blankly at nothing, tears still rolling down my cheeks.
My reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger.
Is this really my life?
How did everything change overnight?
Minutes passed, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything. I felt stuck—physically, emotionally, mentally.
Then I heard Dad's voice again from outside.
"Are you ready, Ami?"
The sound of his voice snapped me back to reality.
"Yes, sir," I responded weakly.
Even though I hadn't bathed, I quickly wiped my face, changed into clean clothes, and stepped out. My hands were still shaking as I adjusted my dress.
I avoided looking at my mom.
Together, Dad and I left the house.
The journey to the police station felt longer than it actually was. The car was filled with silence, but it wasn't a peaceful silence—it was heavy, tense, suffocating.
I sat beside him, staring out the window, watching people go about their normal lives. Some were laughing, some were talking, some were just walking freely.
Freedom…
I didn't even know if I still had that.
Occasionally, I would glance at Dad, hoping—just hoping—he would look at me differently, like he believed me, like he trusted me.
But his face remained hard and unreadable.
When we finally arrived at the police station, my heart began to pound even faster.
The building looked intimidating, and as we stepped inside, the atmosphere changed immediately. Officers moved around, some talking, some writing, others staring at us as we walked in.
Dad spoke to one of them, and after a brief exchange, we were directed to an office.
"Sit," one of the officers said.
I obeyed quietly.
Another officer walked in holding a phone inside a transparent evidence bag.
"This is the phone recovered from the kidnappers' vehicle," he said.
My eyes fixed on it.
"And we found your number here," he added, looking directly at me.
My throat went dry.
"I—I don't understand," I stammered. "I've never seen that phone before."
The officers exchanged glances.
"When was the last time you used your SIM card?" one of them asked.
"I use it all the time," I replied nervously. "It's in my phone."
"Bring out your phone."
My hands trembled as I slowly reached into my bag and brought it out. I handed it over.
They checked it carefully.
"Same number," one of them confirmed.
I felt like the walls were closing in on me.
"Do you know anyone who could have had access to your SIM? Anyone at all?" another officer asked.
I paused.
I tried to think.
And then… something flickered in my memory.
A moment I had completely ignored before.
"I…" I hesitated.
"Speak," the officer said firmly.
"There was a time…" I began slowly, trying to piece it together. "A few weeks ago… my phone got missing for some hours."
Dad turned to look at me sharply.
"You never told me that," he said.
"I found it later," I replied quickly. "I thought I misplaced it… I didn't think anything of it."
The officers leaned forward slightly.
"Where did you lose it?" one asked.
"I'm not sure exactly," I said. "But I remember it was during a visit… I had gone to see someone."
"Who?"
I hesitated again.
My heart started beating faster.
Because suddenly, everything didn't feel like a coincidence anymore.
"It was…" I swallowed hard. "It was the same day I visited Aunty Bella."
Silence filled the room.
The officers exchanged another look—this time more serious.
Dad's expression changed slightly, but I couldn't tell if it was doubt or realization.
"Are you saying," one officer began slowly, "that your phone went missing on the same day your aunty was last seen before the kidnapping?"
"I didn't think it mattered," I said quickly, panic rising in my chest. "I found it later that day… everything seemed normal…"
"But it wasn't," the officer replied.
My heart sank.
Had something happened that day?
Did someone take my SIM… clone it… or use it?
I felt like I was standing at the edge of something dangerous, something I didn't fully understand yet.
And for the first time since the accusation started…
I realized this might be bigger than me.
Much bigger.
And somehow…
I was already in the middle of it.