Gayatri flicked through the notes one last time, her sharp eyes scanning for any missing rupee. At last, she gave a curt nod. "Good. For once, you didn't mess up." She slipped the bundle into her blouse with a smirk. "Good job—and goodnight."
Without another glance, she disappeared into her room, shutting the door with a dull thud.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint ticking of the wall clock. Gauri dropped onto the old sofa, her body trembling from the night's ordeal. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to gather herself, when a gentle weight sank beside her. Charvi, ever watchful, curled into her side.
Gauri turned her head toward her sister, brushing away the damp strands of hair clinging to her temple. "Tell me, Charvi… did you eat?"
Charvi lowered her eyes, her voice soft, almost guilty. "How can I eat without you, Didi?"
The words stabbed at Gauri's heart. She cupped her sister's face, forcing a faint smile through her own weariness. "Pagli… you'll fall sick like this."
But before she could scold further, Charvi slipped away and returned moments later with a small thali of food. She set it on the table and tugged Gauri's hand until she sat cross-legged on the floor with her.
Together, they tore chapatis into pieces, Gauri slipping a morsel into Charvi's mouth, Charvi returning the gesture with equal tenderness. Tears threatened at the corners of Gauri's eyes, but she blinked them back.
In that moment, feeding each other in the dim glow of a flickering lamp, they weren't just sisters—they were each other's world, each bite a promise that no cruelty, not even their mother's, could break them apart.
When the last of the food was gone, Charvi nestled against Gauri's shoulder, her eyelids heavy with sleep. Gauri fed her the final morsel, then stroked her hair until her breathing softened into the rhythm of dreams.
Only then did Gauri let her own thoughts spill free. She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, her chest still tight from the night's encounter.
The police station… tomorrow.
Her brows knitted. Why did he call me there? Does he want to tell me something… or ask me something?
The memory of his stern eyes returned—calm yet unyielding, as though they could see straight through her. Gauri hugged her knees to her chest, unease gnawing at her.
If it was about the hooded man, then maybe… maybe she wasn't safe anymore. But if it was something else—something he suspected about her—she feared what secrets might come to light.
She brushed a trembling hand across her face, whispering to herself, "Whatever it is… I'll have to face it."
The lamp flickered weakly in the corner, its glow wavering like her own resolve.
The morning air felt heavier than usual as Gauri stepped out of her auto outside the Bandra Police Station. Her palms were damp, her mind racing with questions. Why had ACP Vihaan Kothari summoned her? To warn her? To accuse her?
Inside, the station was a blur of uniforms and hurried footsteps. She followed the directions and stopped before a door with a brass nameplate:
ACP VIHAAN KOTHARI
Before she could gather her courage to knock, the door opened. Vihaan strode in, uniform crisp, authority radiating from every step, with Harsh trailing close behind.
"Good morning, sir," Gauri said softly. "I'm Gauri."
Vihaan's eyes flicked to her, cool and unreadable. "Ms. Gauri. Sit."
She sank into the chair opposite his desk, her hands knotted in her lap.
Vihaan leaned forward, his voice low and firm.
"For the last three months, six women have disappeared. No ransom notes. No bodies. Nothing. Last night made it clear—you are the seventh."
The words struck her like a slap. "The seventh? You mean… he's after me?"
"Yes." His gaze held hers without blinking. "The hooded man has marked you. But if you cooperate, we can protect you—and maybe use this chance to catch him."
Gauri shook her head quickly, panic in her voice. "No. I can't put myself in danger. My sister—she needs me. I can't risk everything like that."
Vihaan's tone hardened. "This isn't just about you, Ms. Gauri. He'll find you whether you agree or not. The only question is whether we stop him first."
Her chest tightened. The room felt smaller, suffocating.
Vihaan exhaled, his jaw tight. "Look… keeping my personal opinion about you aside—professionally, it's my job to protect you. That's why you're here."
Her head snapped up. "Personal opinion?" she repeated, disbelief cutting through her fear. "What do you mean by that?"
His eyes narrowed. "I mean, if it were left to me alone, I wouldn't be bending over backwards for someone who dances in bars. That's not respect. Not in any society."
For a moment, Gauri just stared at him, stung, breath caught in her throat. Then slowly, she rose, her voice trembling but sharp.
"So that's what you think. That because I danced on a stage, I don't deserve protection. I don't deserve dignity."
"Watch your tone," Vihaan warned, standing as well, his eyes flashing.
She laughed bitterly, her pain sharpening into fury. "My tone? You insult me to my face, reduce me to your prejudices, and I should stay silent? No, ACP Kothari. The dirt isn't in my work—it's in your thinking."
His voice snapped like a whip. "Girls like you are a stain on this country. Respect is earned, not bought with tips on a dance floor."
Her eyes blazed. She clapped her hands once, slow and mocking, a bitter smile twisting her lips.
"Respect? From a man whose thoughts are cheaper than the words he spits? Keep it, sir. I don't need your protection."
With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out, the door slamming in her wake.
Vihaan stood rigid, his jaw clenched. Her words echoed in the silence, louder than any gunshot.