The guest who knew too much

 



🕯️ The Guest Who Knew Too Much

A Psychological Thriller Set in Lahore

By Faraz Parvez
Professor Dr. (Retired) Arshad Afzal
Retired Faculty Member, Umm Al-Qura University, Makkah, KSA
(Pseudonym of Professor Dr. Arshad Afzal)


I. Gulberg, Lahore — Where Luxury Hides Shadows

Zoya and Faris were the perfect couple. Young, successful, beautiful. Their Instagram told the world that much. Nestled in a leafy lane of Gulberg, their modern, marble-floored villa was as much an achievement as it was a statement. Recently married, they turned part of their spacious home into an Airbnb suite — “to add a stream of passive income,” as Faris proudly declared.

They received guests from Karachi, Dubai, even Sweden. All left five-star reviews. Until Mr. Kamal checked in.

A man in his late 40s, he arrived with a duffel bag and a laptop. Polite. Reserved. But… too observant. He requested no housekeeping. Ate in silence. Stared too long at the wedding photos on the hallway wall.


II. The Clues Begin

On the second day, Zoya found a small blue marble on the hallway table. Nothing special — except it matched the ones in her childhood collection. The exact kind she'd lost in a schoolyard in Peshawar over two decades ago.

Faris laughed it off. “Maybe just a coincidence.”

On day three, a page from a torn diary appeared under the guest room door — with a child’s handwriting that mirrored Zoya’s own. It read:
“You promised you’d never forget. But you did.”

Zoya’s hands trembled. She never told Faris about that summer. The one with her cousin Sara. The lake. The drowning. The pact.

How could this man know?


III. The Confrontation

Faris installed a discreet camera near the corridor. That night, they watched the footage in bed.

3:12 a.m.
Kamal stood at the hallway, staring at their bedroom door for almost five minutes. Still. Not blinking.

Zoya couldn’t sleep. The next morning, she made tea and waited for Kamal to leave the room.

Instead, he entered the kitchen.

"Do you ever wonder," he said calmly, "how much of the past we actually forget… or just bury?"

Zoya dropped her mug. It shattered.


IV. The Revelation

Faris ran a background check. Kamal’s identity was a patchwork. The CNIC matched a man who died in Karachi in 2006. The phone number? Untraceable. The reviews on his Airbnb profile? All recently made by fake accounts.

The couple decided to evict him. But that night, Kamal was gone — along with his duffel bag. No luggage. No goodbye. No trace.

In the guest room, he had left a brown envelope.

Inside it:

  • A photo of Zoya, age 11, beside a drowned girl.
  • A map with “You must return” written across it.
  • A phone — with one video: a recording of the lake, and in the distance, a child’s voice crying, “Help me, Zoya…”

V. The Unraveling

Zoya checked herself into therapy the next day. Faris hired private investigators. Nothing came up. But every week since, a new item has arrived:

  • A rusted locket.
  • A school badge.
  • A torn piece of blue dupatta.

Each one with a note.
"I remember everything. Do you?"

They never saw Kamal again. But sometimes, when Zoya walks by the guest room door, she swears she hears… dripping water.


🌐 Read more such twisted tales only at

👉 themindscope1.blogspot.com

🎭 Your hub for fiction, thrillers, romance, and the unseen corners of the mind.



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