The Blue Horizon swayed gently with the waves, but there was nothing gentle about the atmosphere on board. Fear hung in the air like the salt from the ocean breeze.
Inspector Deshmukh stood on the pool deck, now empty of its colorful umbrellas and cheerful loungers. The space that once echoed with laughter and clinking glasses had transformed into something much darker-a place where truth would be hunted down, one question at a time.
He adjusted his sunglasses and checked his watch. 9:30 AM. Time for the second round of questioning. Yesterday's interviews had given him fragments, but fragments don't solve murders. Today, he needed the whole picture.
The guests huddled in small groups across the deck, their voices barely above whispers. Every few minutes, someone would glance toward the inspector, then quickly look away. Guilt, fear, or just nervousness-Deshmukh had seen it all before. But on this floating prison, everyone was a suspect until proven otherwise.
"Riya Patel," he called out, his voice carrying across the deck like a ship's horn.
Riya walked toward the makeshift interrogation area with steady steps, though her heart was racing. She had barely slept, and not just because of Samar's death.
Something else was eating at her from the inside.
"Please, sit down, beta," Inspector Deshmukh said, his tone softer than she had expected. Despite his reputation for being tough, there was something fatherly about him.
She settled into the plastic chair, the morning sun warming her face. "Sir, I've told you everything I know."
"I'm sure you have," he replied, opening his notepad. "But sometimes we remember things differently when we've had time to think. Tell me again, how well did you know Samar Malhotra?"
Riya shook her head firmly. "I didn't know him at all. The only time I saw him was when we were boarding yesterday morning. He was shouting at his son near the gateway."
"What was he shouting about?"
"I couldn't hear clearly, but it sounded like... like a father who was disappointed in his child. The way my papa used to scold my brother when he failed his exams." She paused, a sad smile crossing her lips. "Some things sound the same in every family."
Deshmukh nodded, making notes. "During the welcome party, did you notice anything strange about Samar?"
"He was drinking alone at the bar," Riya said, wrapping her arms around herself. "He looked... angry. Not the kind of person you'd want to approach for small talk. My friends and I stayed on the other side of the deck."
"Your friends Tanya and Nisha. They've been with you throughout this trip?" "Yes," she replied quickly, then her voice wavered slightly. "Well... mostly." Deshmukh caught the hesitation. "Mostly?"
"I mean, we're together most of the time. But you know how it is-sometimes people need space, bathroom breaks, phone calls to family..."
The inspector studied her face. There was something she wasn't saying, but he decided to let it pass for now. "Thank you, beta. Please send in Mr. and Mrs. Gokhale."
The elderly couple approached hand in hand, their footsteps synchronized after decades of walking together. Mrs. Gokhale wore a simple cotton saree, while her husband was dressed in an ironed white shirt and trousers-the uniform of retired respectability.
"Namaste, Inspector sahab," Mr. Gokhale said with a polite smile. "Terrible business, this murder. In our time, such things didn't happen on family trips."
"Times change, uncle," Deshmukh replied. "Please, both of you, sit. I need to ask about your interaction with Samar Malhotra."
Mrs. Gokhale adjusted her saree pallu nervously. "We barely spoke to him, beta. Just once, when he was walking past our table at dinner."
"What did you talk about?"
"Nothing important," Mr. Gokhale interjected. "He mentioned the engine noise was bothering him. I told him to complain to the crew if it was a problem."
"That's all?"
"Haan, that's all," Mrs. Gokhale confirmed. "He seemed... preoccupied. Like his mind was somewhere else."
Deshmukh tapped his pen against the notepad. "After dinner, you both went to your cabin together?"
"Of course," Mr. Gokhale said, his tone suggesting the question was unnecessary. "We've been married for forty years, Inspector. We do everything together."
"Bilkul," his wife added. "We watched some news on TV and went to sleep by 10:30. We're not young people who stay up late partying."
The inspector nodded, but something in their too-perfect answers made him uneasy. "Thank you. Please ask Tanya to come."
Tanya approached the chair as if it might bite her. Her hands trembled slightly as she sat down, and she kept glancing back toward where her friends were sitting.
"Relax, beta," Deshmukh said gently. "I just want to understand what happened last night."
"We didn't do anything wrong, sir," she said quickly, then caught herself. "I mean... we didn't know that man at all."
"Samar Malhotra."
"Haan, him. We kept to ourselves during the party. We're not the type to talk to strangers."
Deshmukh leaned forward. "But you were seen comforting Riya later in the evening. She seemed very upset. More upset than just hearing about a stranger's death would make someone."
Tanya's eyes darted away. "The murder scared all of us, sir. Finding out someone died so close to where we were sleeping... It's frightening for girls like us."
"But Riya was particularly shaken?"
"She... she's sensitive. Always has been, even in college. She gets emotional easily."
"Did she tell you why she was so upset?"
Tanya shifted in her chair. "Not exactly. She just said she felt sick thinking about it."
Deshmukh studied her carefully. The girl was hiding something, but fear was making her clumsy with her lies. "Is there anything else you want to tell me, beta?"
"No, sir. Nothing at all."
Nisha walked to the chair with more confidence than her friend had shown. She was always the composed one, the leader of their group, and she wasn't about to let a police interrogation shake her.
"Sir," she said with a polite smile, "I hope we can clear this up quickly. This whole situation is very disturbing for all of us."
"I'm sure it is," Deshmukh replied, his tone sharper than before. "Tell me about your interaction with Samar Malhotra."
"There was no interaction. I saw him at the buffet. We exchanged a polite smile when we both reached for the same dish at the same time. That's it."
"Nothing else?"
"Nothing. My friends and I stayed together the whole evening. We're not the socializing type, especially not with older men we don't know."
Deshmukh leaned back in his chair, studying her carefully. "Ms. Nisha, I overheard an interesting conversation between you and Tanya last night."
Nisha's smile faltered slightly. "I don't know what you mean."
"You were quite upset about something. Tanya was trying to calm you down. You said, and I quote, 'What if she finds out? What if someone tells her?' Tell me, what were you so worried about?"
The color drained from Nisha's face. "That... that was a personal matter, sir. Nothing to do with this murder."
"Beta," Deshmukh said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge, "let me make something very clear. There is nothing personal on this ship right now. A man is dead, and everyone here is a suspect until I say otherwise. So I'll ask again-what were you afraid Riya would find out?"
"Sir, please... It's really not related to"
"Don't lie to me!" Deshmukh's voice cracked like a whip, making Nisha flinch. "I've been doing this for twenty years, beta. I can smell lies from a mile away, and right now, you reek of them."
Nisha's hands trembled in her lap. "Sir, you don't understand-"
"Then make me understand!" He leaned forward, his eyes boring into hers. "You're hiding something that's eating you alive. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. What is it?"
"It's not... we didn't do anything wrong."
"Who is 'we', Nisha?" Deshmukh's voice was relentless now. "You and who else?"
Tears began to well up in her eyes. "Please, sir... if this comes out, it will destroy everything. Our families, the wedding preparations-"
"What wedding preparations?" He was like a shark smelling blood now. "Riya's wedding to Aditya?"
The name hit Nisha like a physical blow. She gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth.
"Ah," Deshmukh said with grim satisfaction. "Now we're getting somewhere. You and Aditya have been talking, haven't you? More than talking?"
"Sir, please-"
"How long?" His voice was ice-cold now. "How long have you been betraying your childhood friend?"
Nisha broke down completely, her composure shattering like glass. "Six months," she whispered through her tears. "It started six months ago."
"Louder. I can't hear you."
"Six months!" she cried, her voice cracking with anguish. "We didn't plan it, sir. It just... happened. We met at a coffee shop when I was buying Riya's birthday gift, and we started talking, and then..."
"And then you started an affair with your best friend's fiancé," Deshmukh finished coldly.
"We love each other!" Nisha said desperately, as if that could justify everything. "Aditya said he would tell Riya after the cruise. He was going to break off the engagement."
"But he hasn't told her yet, has he? And now you're trapped on this ship, pretending to be her friend while stabbing her in the back."
Nisha sobbed harder. "You don't understand what it's like! I never meant for this to happen. Riya is like my sister, but Aditya... he makes me feel alive in a way I never knew was possible."
"So alive that you decided to lie to everyone? To smile in Riya's face while carrying on with her fiancé behind her back?"
"We were going to tell her!" Nisha protested. "After the trip, Aditya was going to"
"Aditya, Aditya, Aditya," Deshmukh said mockingly. "Tell me, Ms Nisha, does this Aditya have the courage to face the music, or is he hiding behind your skirts while you take all the heat?"
"Don't talk about him like that!" Nisha flared, some fire returning to her voice.
"Oh, so now you have some fight in you?" Deshmukh smiled grimly. "Good. Because I need you to understand something very clearly. This secret of yours? It gives you motive."
"Motive for what?"
"Maybe Samar Malhotra saw something he shouldn't have. Maybe he figured out your little secret and threatened to expose you. Maybe he wanted money to keep quiet."
"No!" Nisha stood up abruptly. "You're wrong! We never even spoke to that man!"
"Sit down," Deshmukh commanded, and something in his voice made her obey immediately. "You're lying again. I have witnesses who saw you talking to Samar at the party. Now tell me the truth, or I'll have you in handcuffs before lunch."
Nisha collapsed back into the chair, defeated. "Okay... okay, yes. He spoke to me briefly. But it wasn't about Aditya!"
"What was it about then?"
"He... he was drunk, and he made some inappropriate comment about my dress. I told him to leave me alone and walked away. That's all!"
Deshmukh studied her tear-stained face. "And you didn't think this was worth mentioning before?"
"I was embarrassed! And scared that if I mentioned any interaction with him, you'd think... you'd think I was involved in his death somehow."
"And yet here we are," Deshmukh said quietly. "With you lying to me about everything else, why should I believe this?"
Nisha could not answer this. Deshmukh smirked and then let her go for now. As Nisha stood to leave, her phone slipped slightly from her back pocket.
The screen lit up, and Deshmukh's sharp eyes caught the message preview that flashed across it.
He said nothing, but made a mental note. The web of lies on this ship was getting more tangled by the hour.
Riya observed from the other side of the deck as Nisha came over to them. She placed her phone on the table and went to fetch the coffee. Riya noticed the anxiety on Nisha's face, but she chose not to comment. It seemed like everyone was anxious on the cruise at that moment. She noticed the phone screen illuminated. Initially, she didn't think much of it-everyone was frequently checking their phones for updates from the outside world.
But then she saw the message preview flash across the screen: "I miss you too, can't wait to hold you again. - A "
The world seemed to stop spinning. That blue heart emoji-she had sent it to Aditya in hundreds of messages. It was their thing, their special little symbol.
But why would Aditya be sending it to Nisha?
Her hands began to shake. No, it had to be someone else. Maybe Nisha had a boyfriend whose name also started with A. Maybe-
The phone buzzed again. This time, a photo notification appeared. Riya's eyes strained to see, and what she saw made her blood freeze.
Two people kissing. The image was cropped close and a bit blurry, but she knew that face. She had kissed those lips a thousand times.
It was Aditya. Her Aditya.
And Nisha. Her best friend since childhood.
"Riya? Kya hua? You look like you've seen a ghost," Tanya said, appearing beside her with concern in her voice.
"I'm... I'm fine," Riya managed to whisper, but her voice came out strangled. "Just feeling dizzy."
But she wasn't fine. Her world was crumbling, and she was trapped on a ship with a person who had betrayed her most deeply. The engagement ring on her finger suddenly felt like it weighed a hundred kilos.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that should have been beautiful, the atmosphere on the Blue Horizon grew even more tense.
In Cabin 302, Kabir and Ananya's voices could be heard through the thin walls, their argument escalating with each passing minute.
"You embarrassed me completely at dinner!" Kabir's voice boomed. "Going on and on like that in front of everyone!"
"I was just trying to make conversation," Ananya replied, her voice smaller, defensive. "The Gokhales seemed interested in my work."
"Your work?" Kabir laughed bitterly. "Teaching small children ABC is not work that adults need to hear about at dinner!"
Aryan was walking past their door when he heard Ananya's voice crack. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to"
"You never mean to, do you? But you always do."
The sound of crying followed, soft and heartbreaking. Aryan stood frozen outside their door, his hands clenched into fists. He had heard enough arguments in his own marriage to recognize the sound of a spirit being crushed.
He forced himself to keep walking.
Later that evening, Meera found Ananya alone on the upper deck, staring out at the endless water. The woman's eyes were red from crying, though she had tried to hide it with makeup.
"Are you okay?" Meera asked softly, settling down beside her on the bench.
Ananya forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, I'm fine. Kabir just gets stressed sometimes. You know how men are."
Meera tilted her head, her voice soft but steady. "I don't think it's about how men are. It's about what we allow."
The words hung in the salt air between them, honest and unflinching. Ananya looked down at her hands, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her dress. The fabric felt suddenly heavy, like everything else in her life.
"In marriage, you have to adjust, na? My mother always said—compromise, tolerance, patience. Those are the pillars of a successful marriage."
She let out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly. The words felt old. Heavy. Like they belonged to someone else—her mother, her aunts, generations of women who had whispered the same mantras into their daughters' ears like prayers.
Meera stayed quiet for a beat, watching the waves crash against the rocks. Then she said, "Sometimes we build those pillars so high, we forget to leave space for ourselves."
Ananya glanced up, caught off guard by the honesty. There was no judgment in Meera's eyes, no pity—just recognition. The kind that came from walking similar paths.
"Why are you even saying all this?" Ananya's voice wavered slightly.
Meera gave a small shrug, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. "Because I've seen that look before. I've worn it. And because sometimes, hearing the truth from someone outside your circle makes it feel a little more real."
The admission settled between them like a shared secret. Ananya turned toward the sea, the wind tugging at her hair, pulling loose strands from her carefully arranged bun. For once, she didn't smooth them back.
"I'm not even sure what I want anymore," she admitted, the words barely audible above the sound of the waves. "Everyone keeps saying I'm lucky. That I should be grateful. That this is what girls dream of."
Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, years of suppressed doubts finally finding their way to the surface.
"Maybe for some," Meera said gently. "But if it doesn't feel right in your bones… then it's okay to want something else. Something real."
Real. The word echoed in Ananya's chest, unfamiliar and frightening and somehow liberating all at once. When was the last time anything in her life had felt real?
Silence settled between them—not awkward, just honest. The kind of quiet that acknowledged the weight of unspoken truths.
After a moment, Ananya said quietly, "Thank you… for not pretending."
Meera nodded, her expression kind but not overly soft. She understood the delicate balance of offering support without overwhelming someone still learning to recognize their own voice.
"Take care, Ananya."
She started to step away, giving her space to process, to breathe.
But just as the wind picked up again, carrying with it the scent of jasmine from a nearby garden, Ananya called out, "Wait."
Meera turned, her eyes gentle with understanding.
Ananya hesitated, vulnerability flickering across her features. "Would you… Stay a little longer? Just until the sun sets?"
The request was small but significant—perhaps the first thing she had asked for herself in months.
Meera offered a small smile and returned to her side without question.
They stood there together—not strangers, not quite friends—two women letting the waves carry away the weight of everything they hadn't said until now. The sky began its slow transformation from blue to gold, painting everything in softer light.
And for the first time in days, Ananya didn't feel so alone. The crushing weight of expectation didn't disappear, but somehow, it felt a little more bearable. In the space between the waves and the wind, she had found something she had almost forgotten existed—the possibility that her feelings mattered too.
Meanwhile, on the lower deck, Aryan stood alone at the railing, watching the stars glowing. The beauty of it felt almost mocking given the darkness that had settled over their trip.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said when he heard footsteps behind him.
Meera joined him at the railing. "Almost makes you forget there's a murderer somewhere on this ship."
He let out a short laugh. "Almost." Then his expression grew serious. "I've missed this, you know. Talking to you like this. Really talking."
Meera was surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. "We talk."
"Do we? When was the last time we had a conversation that wasn't about bills, or work, or whose turn it is to buy groceries?"
She was quiet for a moment. "We stopped trying, didn't we? After... after we lost our baby, it was like we both just froze."
Aryan's jaw tightened. "I should have talked to you then. I should have-"
"We both could have done better," Meera interrupted gently. "But maybe... maybe we still can."
Their eyes met across the fading light, and for the first time in months, there was something other than politeness between them. Not promises-neither was ready for that yet-but possibility.
Later that night, Mr. Gokhale found Aryan sitting alone in the piano lounge, nursing a glass of whiskey and staring at nothing.
"Mind if an old man joins you?" Mr. Gokhale asked, settling into the chair across from him.
"Of course not, uncle."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before the older man spoke. "When I was your age, I thought I had everything figured out. Career first, family second. Duty over desire. Responsibility over happiness."
Aryan looked up from his glass. "Did it work out for you?"
Mr. Gokhale smiled sadly. "I gave my wife security, stability, and a good home. But I wonder sometimes... did I give her joy? Did I give her the life she dreamed of when she was young?"
"Do you regret it?"
"Every time I see her looking out at the ocean like it's calling her back to something I buried long ago. She wanted to travel when we were young, you know. See the world. But I was too focused on building our future to live in our present."
Aryan swallowed hard. The words hit too close to home.
"Don't make my mistakes, beta," Mr. Gokhale said, patting his shoulder. "Success means nothing if you're successful alone."
In his cabin, Inspector Deshmukh reviewed the new surveillance footage that had been recovered from the ship's security system. The technical crew had managed to restore some corrupted files, and what he saw made him frown.
At 12:38 AM, Samar Malhotra was clearly visible walking alone toward the engine room. He carried a bottle in one hand-whiskey, by the look of it. His walk was steady, not the stumbling gait of a drunk man.
But the next camera, the one positioned near the engine room entrance, showed nothing but a black screen from 12:35 AM to 12:45 AM. Technical glitch, or had someone deliberately disabled it?
The inspector made notes in his careful handwriting. Every person he had interviewed today had claimed barely any interaction with Samar. Yet surveillance from the welcome party showed at least six different guests in conversation with the victim at various points.
Someone was lying. Probably everyone was lying. But why? What were they all hiding?
And somewhere among these polite, middle-class passengers who talked about family and tradition and doing the right thing, a killer was walking free, protected by lies and alibis.
Deshmukh closed his notepad and looked out at the dark ocean. Tomorrow, he would start asking the harder questions. Tonight, he would let them all think they were safe.
But safety, like truth, was just an illusion on the Blue horizon
The ship moved through the dark waters, carrying its cargo of secrets toward an uncertain dawn.
....
Chapter 4 is out! 🌊🕵️♀️Okay… that confession? That twist? That tension?! Be honest—
did you expect that?! 😱The truth is starting to slip out, but not everything is adding up yet...
So what do you think—is Aryan hiding more? And what about Meera? Just scared… or something else?
Drop your thoughts, fav lines, and new suspects below! Let's keep playing detective together 🧐💬