That night was silent. As if the world had stopped spinning. Layla was still sitting in— I mean, curled up in her corner, cross-legged and the only accessory to her isolated life apart from everyone else was the fan in the corner 'tick-tick'ing every two seconds. It was a low-grade trinket— nothing more than a little silver USB— but for some reason, in her mind, it was a one-of-a-kind treasure.
Even she didn't suspect it. Dad's box of unused clothes— the ones he never wore— dusty, old, patched with time were supposed to be rags, rags and extra fabric. But just now, amid the pocket of one of the more distressed coats, this little memento was there— small but enough to keep Dad's heart beating for a long time.
"Irfan's asleep... don't involve him in this." Layla said slowly, as if convincing herself that was the case, with a muffling breath.
She stood up slowly, stood up, walked over to her father's laptop. The one he hadn't touched in years. One side was cracked. Even the hinges were so rusted in place, stuck like they were bracing themselves to fall off at any moment, but she pushed through—once... twice... three times. Sad theme music from a movie long forgotten. Sad theme music from a life some would say is already over.
She connected the flash drive. For one millisecond... nothing happened. But then—there it was, a new folder.
AZRA PROJECT - CONFIDENTIAL
Her finger lingered over the pad for a few seconds, depressing but not re-depressing over and over again as if another hand was stopping it. But then it pressed down hard. The folder opened.
A PDF, Word documents, and a voice note titled: If anything happens.
She opened the voice note first. She could see the woman breathing heavy.
> "Layla..."
> "If you're hearing this, it means that... I'm not there anymore. I'm sorry, dad. I just had to keep all of this to myself for so long."
Layla did not reply. She cried more, the tears falling from her eyes onto the laptop's trackpad.
> "Azra Project… it's not just a system. It's a weapon. It recreates information — changes what people believe. Changes reality. Kamal… he used my name. But it was all his doing."
> "I was just a puppet. And now he's trying to get rid of the evidence."
The recording stopped for a moment. The sound of heavy breathing. As if father was racing against time.
> "If Aidan is looking for you… don't keep believing. He's not what he used to be."
Click. End.
Layla was stunned. Aidan? A name she never thought she would hear from her father. The young man was always in the news, supposedly a 'tech hero' who wanted to change the world. But… if her father didn't believe him, what did it all mean?
She opened one file after another. Money transcripts — large sums, transferred to overseas accounts. Fake company names. But Layla noticed — there was one name that kept repeating: "NeoCore Dynamics". Next to it, Kamal's name. And… Aidan's name too.
Layla got up, opened an old drawer. She took out a small notebook. Wrote down all the names, all the numbers, every important piece of information. She couldn't expect the laptop to last long. She couldn't expect anyone to believe her later.
Another file her father had left behind — Azra's system plan. The codes were complicated, but Layla wasn't an empty child. She had studied on her own, watching videos for years. And now, all that training will be put to the test.
She has to make a decision.
Run? Turn it all over to the police? But what if the police have been bribed?
Or… fight it out herself?
Layla looked at Irfan's sleeping face. Still small, still not understanding anything. But one day, she will understand. She will know that her sister did not run. Not submit.
Layla held the USB again.
"If I don't do it, then who will?"
And for the first time,
since the night of her father's murder,
Layla had a course of action.
Or... is she going to have to fight?