My Daughter’s Face in the Wall / Chapter 5: The Pink Hair Clip
My Daughter’s Face in the Wall

My Daughter’s Face in the Wall

Author: Kavya Joshi

Chapter 5: The Pink Hair Clip

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"It’s nothing, Rohan. You can go back first, thank you."

I stared at that spot on the wall, trying to use my imagination to piece the stains into Ananya’s face. I remembered her chubby cheeks, the tiny dimple that appeared whenever she smiled, her favourite pink hairband.

I missed her so much. I swallowed hard, my throat aching with unshed tears.

Rohan replied from behind me,

"Main chai banaata hoon. Bhaiya, jab tak yahan ho, ek cup chai toh banta hai! Amma daant degi warna!"

I heard his footsteps as he turned and went downstairs. His slippers slapped softly against the stone steps.

I stepped closer to the wall and reached out to touch that mark... My fingers brushed against the cold, slightly gritty surface.

I thought I might feel something special. Some lingering warmth, some trace of her.

But there was nothing. Just a cold, ordinary wall. Only the faint smell of cement and old rain.

I sighed again.

If Ananya were still alive, she’d be twelve now. She should be tall and graceful, happily enjoying life... Maybe arguing with me over TV remotes, pestering her mother for extra pocket money, going for tuition with her friends.

I lowered my head, turned, and was about to go downstairs.

But behind me, a gentle voice suddenly spoke:

"Papa, you finally found me?"

My breath caught in my throat, as if someone had called out my full name from the kitchen. I froze on the spot. My legs felt like stone.

That voice—I could never forget it, even in death. So sweet, so familiar, full of hope.

It was Ananya’s voice.

I spun around in a panic, but saw nothing. Not a shadow, not even a flicker of movement.

But on the wall, that stain—

It was gently peeling away. Flakes of paint fell, silent as snow.

I walked over, and in the crumbling dust of the wall’s crack, I saw something.

I dug it out with all my strength. It was a hair clip.

A pink hair clip.

I pressed the clip to my lips, whispering Ananya’s name. My knees almost buckled as the weight of years crashed over me. It was the very one she wore the day she disappeared. I clutched it tightly, my fingers shaking.

But as I closed my fist around the clip, a cold wind swept through the corridor, carrying a whisper I couldn’t quite catch.

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