Two Rivals. One Serial killer. Zero patience.
Dr. Meher Bansal didn't sign up for this. All she wanted was to help her patients, not end up in the middle of a murder investigation. But when her patient's death puts her on a collision course with ACP...
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They say fire purifies everything. Burns away sins, regrets, memories—leaves nothing but ashes. But standing here, watching Amrita's body turn to embers, I can't find a single thing about this that feels pure.
It's just wrong.
The smell of burning wood clings to the air, thick and suffocating, but I don't move. People dressed in white are already starting to drift away, murmuring condolences before disappearing back into their lives. But mine feels like it's stuck here, rooted to the ground as I watch a girl who deserved so much more turn into nothing.
I let out a slow breath, pressing my nails into my palm, the sting keeping me anchored.
"Thank you for coming," a voice says, hoarse yet eerily composed. I blink and turn.
Mahati Rao. Amrita's mother, the woman once known for running one of the most powerful tech companies in the country, now looks like a ghost of herself. Her eyes, once sharp, are dull, empty. Gone is the woman who built something out of scratch. What's left is a mother burying her daughter.
"I had to," I whisper. What else is there to say?
I take her hands in mine, the skin cold despite the heat around us. "Please take care of yourselves. If you need anything—"
She nods before I can finish, her grip slipping from mine as she turns and walks away. Like she's already erased this moment. Like forgetting will make it easier. It won't.
I exhale, my eyes drifting back to the flames, the heat prickling against my skin.
"So they won," a voice cuts through the quiet.
I don't need to turn to know who it is.
Inspector Rajeev Sharma.
The last time I saw him, he was interrogating me about Amrita's disappearance. Now, he's standing next to me in formals, hands shoved into his pockets, but the weight of a lost case sits heavy on his shoulders.
"They did," I mutter, eyes still on the fire.
We start walking, the grass crunching beneath our feet as we move through the sea of people. "After the 72-hour mark, we knew it was unlikely she'd be found alive," Rajeev sighs, shaking his head. "But this... this wasn't what we expected."
Expected. What a useless word. Like any of this was just a bad surprise.
"I can't believe her parents won't let you proceed with the investigation," I say, anger curling in my chest. "She deserves justice."
"They pulled strings," Rajeev mutters. "Erased everything before it could become news. No public outrage, no pressure. And people don't care. To them, it's just another headline, another tragedy to skim over while drinking their morning chai."
A bitter chuckle escapes him. "They say they've had enough humiliation from her divorce. They don't want more trouble."
I stop walking, turning to look at him. "Trouble?" I echo, voice sharp. "She was murdered."
