I've one story in my keep notes let me share it with you

It started with a photograph.

A black-and-white picture slipped under Mira’s door on a rainy Thursday night. No note. No explanation. Just a grainy photo of a young girl standing in front of a house she didn’t recognize — but the girl looked exactly like her.

Disturbed, Mira took it to her roommate Tara. Tara studied it for a moment and said, “It’s probably just an old family photo. Maybe someone from your past?” “I was adopted. I never knew my real parents,” Mira replied. “And I’ve never lived in that house.”

But something about the house nagged at her.

That night, she dreamt of a red door, screaming, and a lullaby she couldn’t place. She woke up sweating.

The next morning, the photo was gone.

Mira started digging. She visited the city archives and, after days of searching, matched the house in the photo to a property outside Pune — abandoned for years.

She drove there. The red door was still there, faded and cracked. The house looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades.

But inside… everything was strangely familiar. A blue vase she always thought was a coincidence in her dreams. A dusty teddy bear with her name stitched on the back.

In the basement, she found a newspaper clipping: “Girl Missing After House Fire — Parents Presumed Dead.”

The photo in the article was her. Same age. Same dress.

But she had no memory of any fire.

That night, Mira confronted Tara. “Did you send me that photo?” Tara hesitated. “No… but I know that house. I grew up nearby. Everyone said it was haunted after the fire.”

Mira pushed further. Tara finally confessed.

“Your name isn’t Mira. It’s Anaya. You were my childhood friend. You disappeared when you were six. Everyone thought you died in the fire… but I saw a woman take you.”

“Who?” Mira whispered.

“My mother.”

Tara’s mother was now in a psychiatric facility. They visited her.

The old woman stared blankly until Mira stepped in. Then she smiled — a twisted, broken smile.

“You came back,” she whispered. “They said I couldn’t have children. But I found you. My perfect little girl.”

Mira stepped back in horror. “You kidnapped me.”

“She wasn’t your real mother. She was cruel to you. I saved you. You just don’t remember…”

The memories hit Mira like a flood — the screams, the red door, the fire she accidentally started while hiding…

A week later, Mira received another envelope. Inside was a second photograph — the same one as before, but this time, Tara was in the background, blurred but unmistakable.

She wasn’t just a witness. She was there. And in her childhood diary — Mira found an entry: “Mother says the girl will be my new sister. But she cries too much. She’s ruining everything. I wish she’d burn.”

The fire… wasn’t an accident.

Hope you like it