Writers 
Chapter 9: The Missing Night
Amara couldn't stop thinking about what she had remembered.
Mia was crying.
Zara was shouting.
And someone had said, “It's your fault.”
But that was all she could remember.
The rest of the memory was like a locked door.
She sat on her bed that evening, staring at the wall.
“Why can't I remember?”
She tried closing her eyes again.
Nothing.
She picked up her phone and looked at the old photograph.
Mia was smiling in the picture.
She looked happy.
Amara wondered what had happened between them.
She decided to call Zara.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then Zara answered.
“Hello?”
“Zara, where are you?”
“At home. Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
There was a short silence.
“About Mia?”
“Yes.”
Zara sighed.
“Amara, I told you we would talk.”
“I know, but I remembered something.”
Zara became quiet.
“What did you remember?”
“I remembered Mia crying.”
Zara didn't say anything.
“And I remember you shouting,” Amara continued. “But I don't remember what happened after that.”
Zara's voice became softer.
“You really don't remember?”
“No.”
“Maybe you shouldn't force yourself.”
“I need to know.”
“Amara…”
“Please.”
Zara sighed again.
“Come to school early tomorrow. I'll tell you what I can.”
The call ended.
Amara put down her phone.
She still felt uneasy.
Something told her that Zara was scared too.
The next morning, Amara arrived at school earlier than usual.
The school was quiet.
Most of the students hadn't arrived yet.
She walked to the classroom and sat down.
A few minutes later, Zara came in.
She looked nervous.
“You came early,” Amara said.
“I didn't want anyone to hear us.”
Amara looked at her.
“Tell me.”
Zara sat beside her.
For a moment, she didn't say anything.
Then she finally spoke.
“Mia was your friend.”
“I remember that.”
“You were very close.”
Amara nodded slowly.
“What happened?”
Zara looked down.
“You and Mia had an argument.”
“About what?”
“I don't know everything.”
Amara frowned.
“But you were there.”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
Zara took a deep breath.
“You got angry and walked away.”
“Where did I go?”
“I don't know.”
Amara stared at her.
“You don't know?”
“No. I stayed with Mia.”
“What happened to her?”
Zara's eyes became sad.
“She was crying.”
Amara looked away.
The memory came back again.
Mia crying.
Her own voice shouting.
Then silence.
“What happened after that?” Amara asked.
Zara shook her head.
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised.”
“Promised who?”
Zara didn't answer.
Amara became frustrated.
“You keep doing this.”
“I know.”
“Every time I ask a question, you stop.”
“I’m sorry.”
Amara stood up.
“No. I don't want you to be sorry. I want the truth.”
Zara looked at her.
“You may not like what you remember.”
Amara froze.
“What does that mean?”
Before Zara could answer, someone entered the classroom.
It was Daniel.
He looked at both of them.
“Amara, you shouldn't be here.”
“Why?”
Daniel walked closer.
“Because someone is asking questions about you.”
Amara frowned.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how do you know?”
Daniel looked at Zara.
Zara quickly looked away.
Amara noticed.
“You two know more than you're telling me.”
Neither of them answered.
Amara picked up her bag.
“Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll find out myself.”
She walked away.
“Amara, wait,” Daniel called.
She didn't stop.
She walked through the school hallway, trying to hold back her tears.
She wasn't angry because they didn't know everything.
She was angry because she felt like everyone was protecting her from something.
And she was starting to wonder if the person she needed to be afraid of wasn't Zara or Daniel.
Maybe it was someone from her own past.
Someone she had completely forgotten.
That afternoon, Amara went home and opened her old school bag.
She hadn't touched it since they moved.
She searched through it carefully.
Old notebooks.
Pens.
A few papers.
Then she found something at the bottom.
A small folded piece of paper.
Amara opened it.
There was only one sentence written on it.
“Meet me that night. Don't tell anyone.”
Amara stared at the words.
Her hands started shaking.
There was no name on the paper.
But she knew the handwriting.
It was Mia's.
And suddenly, Amara remembered something.
She had met Mia that night.
The night everyone refused to talk about.
The night she had tried so hard to forget.