Chapter 9 – Keeping Promises

 

Clock sets back at 5.00 in the morning, Tatiana in front of the mirror, she saw no reflection of anyone from the mirror turn around looking at the mirror, no one was in the reflection behind her, as soon as she turn, There is Chathurika screaming to her face Get Up…..

Tatiana gasped—water burst from her lungs, coughing her back to life. She rolled to her side, hacking, gasping for air.

The feeling of chasing a ghost the whole day make her sick to her guts.

When she looked up, there was no one. Only the mist, the river, and the roar of the waterfall.

Her breath came ragged, heart pounding as the pieces rearranged themselves in her mind. Chathurika had been gone long before dawn. She must have tried to save her brother and they have killed the poor innocent girl. Tatiana felt her throat tighten as the words replayed in her ears:
You inspired me to fight against unfairness.

She turned, resting her head against a cold rock, and the tears came hard, wracking her chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered through sobs. “Why did you go alone, poor girl?” she cried her heart out.

Now she understood it all—the girl who came back from death not to haunt her, but to finish what she started. To rescue her brother. To find peace.

“Can you help my parents find me?”
“They’ve been looking for me for days… Tell them I did everything I could to protect what’s ours.”

Tatiana wiped her face, the cold wind cutting through her wet clothes. Her pulse steadied. She looked toward the path along the river, eyes burning with resolve.

“Alright,” “One last favor,?” she whispered, voice cracking but firm.

She pushed herself to her feet, trying to get over from the shock of seeing a ghost for the whole day. shoulders trembling but strong. “I’m going to finish your mission, babe.”

The jungle around her stirred again—the sound of water, the whisper of wind—and Tatiana started walking.

The jungle seemed to watch her as she walked. Every step left a print in the damp soil, each one heavier than the last. Tatiana’s clothes clung to her, torn and soaked, but she didn’t stop. The path wound along the stream, climbing gently toward the hills.

Through the trees ahead, a roof came into view — small, tiled, washed pale by the sun. Smoke rose from a clay chimney, curling upward into the still air.

Tatiana slowed. Her breath came steady now, though her chest still ached from the river.

She stepped out from the brush. A boy stood in the yard. Chathurika’s brother. His eyes widened the moment he saw her. He didn’t speak — only ran inside.

Moments later, two older figures came out. A mother and father. They froze when they saw Tatiana, hope and dread crossing their faces at once.

She didn’t need to say anything.

Tatiana’s gaze met the mother’s. Her eyes began to glisten. The father took a single step forward, then stopped, shoulders shaking. The boy clung to his mother’s arm.

Tatiana lowered her head.

Silence filled the space between them — a silence thick enough to feel. Only the rustle of leaves and the faint murmur of the stream carried through the air.

The mother’s knees gave way. The father caught her. The boy buried his face in her chest. The sound of their grief broke the stillness, soft but unbearable.

Tatiana stood there, unmoving.

Then, slowly, she turned her eyes upward — to the sky above the trees, where sunlight filtered through the mist, pale and cold.

The screen darkened, fading with the sound of the wind and water mingling — the same two sounds that had followed her since the falls.

EXT. BEACH VILLA – MORNING

Sunlight pours across the terrace. Beyond the open living area, the pool glitters in the heat and the sea rolls in slow, calm waves.

Tatiana steps out from the villa, her hair tied back, a tablet in one hand. She squints toward the pool and frowns. The water ripples with fallen leaves.

“Malli!” she calls sharply.

A muffled voice answers from inside. “What now?”

“The guests are coming in an hour! You haven’t cleaned the pool yet!”

“Okay, okay, ten minutes!” he grumbles.

Tatiana crosses her arms, tone firm. “Do it now.”

Moments later he appears, muttering under his breath, dragging the cleaning net and bucket, his shoulders slouched in protest. She hides a smile, watching him start the work with exaggerated annoyance.

She turns back into the villa, making her final inspection — curtains straightened, cushions set, the kitchen spotless. Upstairs, she checks the rooms one by one, the scent of fresh linen and salt air drifting through open windows.

Finally, she steps onto the balcony. From there, the whole world seems to stretch in blue and white — the pool, the beach, the endless ocean.

Down below, Ruwan finishes cleaning, gathers his tools, and disappears inside.

Tatiana leans against the railing, eyes fixed on the horizon. The breeze lifts a few strands of her hair.

A moment later, Ruwan joins her, leaning on the railing beside her. They stand in silence for a while, just watching the sea.

Ever since Chathurika’s death, Tatiana has cared for him — paid for the funeral, his schooling, and even helped reopen the villa. This place, once haunted by grief, now hums quietly with life again.

“Did you talk to the state counselor?” he asks.

“Yep,” she says, still looking at the ocean. “They’ll pass the judgment tomorrow.”

“What do you think it’ll be?”

“Don’t worry,” she says evenly. “They’re going in for a long time — even if they don’t get the death penalty. But…” she glances at him, “the counselor thinks they will.”

He nods slowly. “It’s all because of you, big sister. If you hadn’t called the Russian government to push the Sri Lankan side to bring the CID in, the local police would’ve sold the case. Everyone listens to Mr. Putin, right? Even Donald Trump.”

Tatiana snorts — the first laugh she’s had in days. “To be clear, I don’t have access to Mr. Putin, okay? And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t spend a single second worrying about a village crime in Sri Lanka.”

She reaches over and ruffles his hair, smiling softly. “Idiot.”

“Hey — I’ve been trying to ask this forever. How come you taught my sister to fight the very first day you met her, but you still haven’t taught me, not even close to a year?”

Tatiana’s stomach dropped. For a year she’d carried that secret like a stone — the guilt of teaching Chathurika, the private lesson that had, in her mind, led to everything. She swallowed. So Tatiana will never do that again to Ruwan. She thinks running away from the conflict and ask for help will be safer for him.

“First of all, it wasn’t the first day. And second — how did you even find that out?” she asked, forced casual in voice but hollow underneath.

Ruwan’s grin only widened. “Oh, I checked the CCTV of last few days before my sister passed away. I kept them saved.” He watched her reaction with bright, guilty pride.

Tatiana’s head snapped to him. She hadn’t known he’d done that. A memory reel flickered through her mind — the rooms, the laughter, the training night — and then the scene on the balcony, the kiss. She felt heat rise to her face.

“What else did you see?” she asked, trying to keep the tone light.

Malli straightened, struck a mock-solemn pose, then burst out, “I saw you two kissing.” His eyes danced; he refused to be serious.

“You idiot — give me that drive,” Tatiana barked in her most commanding voice, half-laughing and half-scolding.

“Never. I kept it hidden,” he said proudly, chin lifting.

Tatiana narrowed her eyes. “Hidden, huh? Would that be the drive under your mattress?”

For half a heartbeat his grin stayed frozen — then vanished. His shoulders stiffened, eyes darting away just a fraction too late.

He didn’t need to say a word.
Tatiana had her answer.

Her lips curved into a sharp, knowing smile. “Thought so.”

They locked eyes — the unspoken understanding flashing between them: whoever reached that drive first would win.

Ruwan started running down.

“Be careful on the stairs, idiot,” Tatiana warned, she stillconcern about his safety.

When Tatiana came to the staircase, Ruwan was halfway down. She slid down the handrail, nimble despite everything — not to be reckless, but to catch up. At the bottom, she spun, intercepted him, and the two of them went down in a tangle: Tatiana pinned him gently but firmly to the floor

“Give me that drive,” she hissed, eyes playful but hard. “And never tell anyone. Or you’ll be in big trouble, little boy.”

Ruwan wriggled, laughing and embarrassed, and then — a polite, measured knock at the open front door.

Both of them froze.

“Mm… did I come too early? I can come later so you can finish your… fight,” a soft feminine voice called from the doorway.

They scrambled off each other and jumped to their feet, cheeks flushing. The doorway framed a an petite Indian woman with a calm, friendly smile —  cheerful and unbothered.

---------THE END----------