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My pulse hammered. My in-laws were both in their sixties—far too old to have a child. None of our relatives had left a baby in their care. Then whose diapers were these?
I walked further in, trembling. The house was strangely quiet, yet a faint smell of baby powder and formula lingered in the air. On the dining table sat a half-empty feeding bottle.
Then I heard it—a soft wail. A baby’s cry, drifting from the old bedroom Arjun and I always used when visiting.
The Hidden Child
I rushed toward the door, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the lock. The moment it swung open, I froze.
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