The witness avoided the accused's eyes.
That alone told Aarav everything.
Witness No. 3, Rekha Joshi, sat stiffly in the box, her hands folded too tightly in her lap. She had once been confident. Her original statement had been clear, detailed, and damaging.
Today, she looked smaller.
The prosecutor began gently. "You lived near the scene of the incident?"
"Yes," Rekha said.
"You heard an argument that night?"
Rekha hesitated. "I… I don't remember clearly."
Aarav raised his head.
The prosecutor continued, slower now. "Did you see the accused that night?"
Rekha shook her head. "No."
A ripple of surprise passed through the courtroom.
The prosecutor froze. "Your statement says otherwise."
Rekha swallowed. "I must have been mistaken."
Aarav stood.
"My Lord," he said, "may I cross-examine?"
The judge nodded.
Aarav approached the witness box. "Ms. Joshi, do you remember giving a statement under oath?"
"Yes."
"In that statement, did you say you saw the accused arguing with the victim?"
Rekha looked down. "Yes."
"And today you say you do not remember?"
"Yes."
Aarav's voice remained calm. "What changed?"
The prosecutor objected immediately. "My Lord, this is intimidation."
The judge raised a hand. "Answer the question."
Rekha's lips trembled.
"Nothing changed," she said quickly.
Aarav took a step closer. "Then why does your memory fail only now?"
Silence.
The courtroom waited.
Aarav spoke again, softer. "Were you contacted before today's hearing?"
Rekha stiffened.
"No," she said too quickly.
Aarav nodded. "Then allow me to help you remember."
He turned to the judge. "My Lord, may the witness be declared hostile?"
The prosecutor jumped up. "On what basis?"
Aarav replied evenly, "On the basis of fear."
The judge studied Rekha carefully.
"Witness is declared hostile," he said.
The word echoed through the courtroom.
The prosecutor's face darkened.
Aarav continued. "Ms. Joshi, did anyone visit your house last night?"
Rekha's eyes filled with tears.
"Yes," she whispered.
The courtroom erupted.
The judge banged the gavel. "Order!"
Rekha wiped her face. "They said my son's school fees would be taken care of."
The prosecutor shouted, "Objection!"
The judge ignored him.
"And if you did not cooperate?" Aarav asked gently.
"They said accidents happen," Rekha replied.
Her voice broke.
Aarav turned toward the bench. "My Lord, this is not perjury. This is coercion."
The judge's jaw tightened.
The prosecutor spoke through clenched teeth. "These are allegations without names."
Aarav replied, "Fear never signs visiting cards."
The judge adjourned the matter abruptly.
As Rekha stepped down, she avoided everyone's gaze.
A constable escorted her out.
Outside the courtroom, Ravi whispered, "Sir… this is bad."
Aarav nodded. "No. This is honest."
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
You are turning witnesses against the court.
Aarav typed back.
No. Someone else already did.
That evening, news headlines began to appear.
Witness Turns Hostile in Twelve-Year-Old Case
Court Questions Missing Records
The system was no longer silent.
And silence, once broken, never returned the same.
Aarav looked at the file on his desk.
Section Zero was no longer a theory.
It was becoming a pattern.