EastEnders UPDATE takes a chilling turn that no one in Walford saw coming as Jasmine’s long-missing journal is discovered hidden behind the bar, wedged deep inside a loose panel that had gone unnoticed for years, and what should have been a simple relic of the past instantly becomes a source of terror, disbelief, and jaw-dropping suspicion when one particular entry sends shockwaves through the Square, because it describes “the evening Cindy fell” in disturbing, precise detail days before the incident actually happened. The discovery is accidental at first, uncovered during a routine clean-up after closing time, when a staff member’s hand brushes against something solid where nothing should be, and when the worn leather-bound journal is pulled free, dust-coated and warped from age, no one immediately realizes the magnitude of what they’re holding, until the name Cindy jumps out from the page like a warning written in ink. As the journal circulates among a small, tight circle of residents, the atmosphere shifts from curiosity to dread, because Jasmine’s handwriting, unmistakable and intimate, lays out a scene that mirrors reality with unnerving accuracy, describing Cindy’s mood that evening, the tension in the air, the argument that would later be confirmed by witnesses, and most horrifying of all, the fall itself, the angle, the timing, the stunned silence afterward, all written as if observed firsthand even though, according to every known timeline, Jasmine should not have known any of this at the time. Panic spreads rapidly as the implications sink in, because this isn’t vague speculation or metaphor, this is a blow-by-blow account of an event that had not yet occurred, raising terrifying questions about how Jasmine could have known, whether she predicted it, planned it, or witnessed something others didn’t, and whether Cindy’s fall was truly an accident at all. Those closest to Cindy react with fury and disbelief, some insisting the entry must have been written after the fact and deliberately backdated, while others argue the ink, paper aging, and contextual clues in surrounding entries make that explanation impossible, turning the journal into a psychological time bomb threatening to explode every version of the truth Walford has been clinging to. As word spreads, old rumors resurface about Jasmine’s state of mind before she disappeared, whispers of paranoia, intuition bordering on obsession, and moments where she seemed to know things she shouldn’t, things that hadn’t yet happened, moments people brushed off as coincidence or imagination but now feel sinister in retrospect. The journal entry itself is chilling not just for what it says but how it says it, written in calm, detached language that reads less like a diary and more like a report, noting Cindy’s expression before the fall, the presence of shadows nearby, the sound of glass clinking behind the bar, and a final line that makes readers’ blood run cold: “It won’t look like anyone pushed her, and that’s the point.” That single sentence fractures the Square, because it suggests intent, awareness, and manipulation, forcing residents to question whether Cindy was set up, whether Jasmine knew who would be blamed, and whether the truth was deliberately hidden in plain sight all along. Police interest is quietly reignited, with detectives revisiting timelines, alibis, and CCTV footage once deemed irrelevant, while those who were present that night begin to unravel under pressure, their stories subtly shifting as fear takes hold, because if Jasmine knew the fall would happen, then someone else must have known too, and the possibility that multiple people were complicit becomes impossible to ignore. Cindy herself, shaken and furious, demands answers, struggling to reconcile her memory of the night with the journal’s eerie accuracy, haunted by the thought that her life-changing injury may have been anticipated, even orchestrated, while Jasmine’s name, once spoken with nostalgia or regret, is now uttered with suspicion and dread. The bar becomes ground zero for paranoia, every loose panel scrutinized, every whispered conversation suspect, as residents wonder what else Jasmine might have hidden, what other future moments she may have written down, and whether the journal was meant to be found at all, or if it surfaced too soon, disrupting a plan that was never finished. As fragments of Jasmine’s past resurface, including strained relationships, quiet confrontations, and a fixation on Cindy that had gone largely unnoticed, the theory emerges that Jasmine believed something terrible was inevitable and chose to document it, not to prevent it but to prove it, a belief that the truth would only matter after the damage was done. Yet others argue a darker possibility, that Jasmine wasn’t predicting the future but scripting it, manipulating people and circumstances so events unfolded exactly as she described, turning the journal into a blueprint rather than a prophecy. The Square is left divided between those who see Jasmine as a troubled observer and those who now fear she was a mastermind hiding in plain sight, and as tensions escalate, threats are made, alliances crumble, and long-buried grudges erupt, because nothing destabilizes a community faster than the realization that the past may have been engineered. In the most unsettling twist of all, the final pages of the journal are missing, torn out cleanly, their absence screaming louder than any written word, leaving Walford trapped between what is known and what may still be coming, as residents begin to wonder with growing horror whether Cindy’s fall was only the first event Jasmine recorded, and whether the future of the Square has already been written by someone who knew exactly how it would all end.