The next day, the girls walked into school not as just classmates, but as a team. Each of them had a copy of Niyati Sharma's diary pages. They had made sure to preserve the original safely at Prajwal's home. Today, they were going to speak up.
During lunch break, they headed straight to the principal's office.
Prajwal knocked confidently.
"Come in," the principal said, raising her eyebrows as all ten girls stepped inside.
Prajwal cleared her throat. "Ma'am, we found something. Something very important about the school's past. About a student named Niyati Sharma."
The principal leaned forward. "Go on."
Swara stepped forward and placed the copy of the diary on the desk. "We found this in the old basement. Niyati was locked down there years ago. She never ran away. She… she died alone."
The principal looked stunned. "What are you saying?"
"It's all written here," said Akshada. "She was trapped and ignored. Everyone thought she ran away, but she was right here, in the basement."
"She mentioned names," Rutuja added. "Staff who ignored her disappearance. Students who laughed when she didn't show up."
"We aren't blaming anyone today," Apurva said. "We just want the truth to come out."
Swarali added, "People should remember her, not forget her like a ghost story."
The principal was silent for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. "I'll need to read this properly. But if what you say is true… then this school owes her a lot. And all of you have done something very brave."
Anushka blinked, a little surprised. "Wait… you're not angry?"
"Why would I be angry? You just gave someone her voice back after all these years."
The girls shared relieved looks.
"Can we make a small memorial for her? In the school garden maybe?" asked Akshara.
"Let me read everything first," the principal replied. "But I don't see why not."
As the girls left the office, the hallway felt brighter. Like some heavy burden had been lifted from the walls.
Srushti, walking beside Darshana, muttered, "Can't believe we actually did it."
Darshana smiled. "We're legends now."
"That's right," Anushka said. "From scaredy-cats to ghostbusters!"
They all laughed.
That evening, as the sun set over the school building, the girls stood near the garden, already planning how the memorial would look.
A simple stone. A small plaque. A place to sit and remember.
"She'll never be alone again," Prajwal whispered.
"Nope," said Swarali. "Not as long as we're here."
They had faced fear, uncovered the truth, and stood strong—together.
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