"In love, even the relief is painful."
It was raining heavily outside, but my body was drenched in sweat, not rain. Every drop clung to my skin like guilt. Mr. Mathur and Abhinav sat across from me. Meera hadn't arrived yet.
"Are you sure?" Abhinav's glare cut through the thick air.
A small squeak escaped my throat, more instinct than response.
"Of course, he can. He's tougher than he looks," Mr. Mathur said with a calm smile.
Abhinav sighed deeply. "What was it like when you killed my brother? Did it feel satisfying? Maybe a little vain rush of power?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
He smirked. "The funny thing about killing someone is—no matter how many justifications we offer to others—something inside us always clings to the act. Maybe that something fades over time… but not for people like you."
"What kind of person am I?" I wondered, though the question never left my lips.
Abhinav spun the paperweight slowly in his hand, his eyes distant.
"Why is killing both necessary and brutal? Why does killing a saint feel worse than killing a demon? Are they really different? Who knows what hides inside people? Maybe the saint we mourn was a demon in disguise."
Mr. Mathur chuckled lightly. "Actions define truth. A double-faced man can't hide forever. Eventually, his mask falls. Sarla and Avinash—what they were wasn't an opinion. They were bad people."
Abhinav yawned and leaned back. "All this talk is useless. Right, wrong… that's just a game of perspective. People waste lifetimes debating who deserved what. But reality is simpler. We don't see saints or demons—we just see nothing. And because we feel nothing, we do whatever we want."
He turned to me again.
"Suraj killed my brother and Raju not because they were evil. Not because of justice. But because their lives simply didn't matter to him. Their deaths were just… silence. He feels nothing. That's what makes him so dangerous."
I sat there, still, silent—neither denying nor defending. The room was heavy with truths no one wanted to accept aloud.
Meera walked into the room and glanced at each of us before quietly settling into the chair beside mine. Her crimson sari shimmered softly in the dim light, and the delicate scent of jasmine that lingered around her eased my anxiety, if only a little. She looked at me—really looked—and, sensing the turmoil on my face, gently placed her hand over mine.
Mr. Mathur cleared his throat, cutting through the silence.
"So, as I was saying—Sarla and his men will be preoccupied for the next twelve days with the festival arrangements. He'll be unarmed most of the time, and with the constant stream of visitors, it'll be nearly impossible for them to keep track of everyone. Sarla usually takes his bath sometime between midday and early evening in the pond behind the mansion. That will be our window."
He paused, letting the gravity settle.
"Suraj will approach while Sarla is bathing and kill him. We'll make it appear as though our enemies were behind the attack. As soon as Suraj escapes, he'll return to us and claim he heard a gunshot near the pond. From there, everything continues as planned."
Meera and Abhinav both nodded in agreement.
"But… what if he dodges the bullet?" I asked without thinking, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
Abhinav let out a dry chuckle.
"How hard can it be to shoot a man half-immersed in water? And even if he does manage to move, the gun isn't limited to one bullet."
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it—only grim certainty.
Meera tightened her grip on my hand.
"It's all right. Don't be nervous. Just remember, you're doing something righteous."
She and Abhinav stood and exited the room without another word. Mr. Mathur rose shortly after, walked over to me, and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
"Leave the room after half an hour," he said quietly. Then he, too, walked out, gently closing the door behind him.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the plan itself.
I descended the stairs towards the hall when a familiar voice called my name. I turned and saw Sarla striding briskly in my direction. As he reached me, he placed a warm hand on my shoulder and pulled me into a hug.
I hesitated—just for a moment—but his warmth coaxed me into returning the gesture.
"How's the preparation going?" I asked, easing myself gently from his embrace.
Sarla let out a theatrical sigh. "Ah, the usual. Every year around this time, it feels suffocating. Mukesh and Raju work as much as they please, and then—" he tapped his own chest "—everything else ends up on my head. Well, Raju's… not here, and Mukesh has been under the weather lately. In a way, it's the same as always, but there's this strange numbness creeping up my neck. Maybe it's regret."
I patted his shoulder, unsure what to say.
Then his expression shifted into a smile. "But this year," he said, "things are going to be better."
I returned the smile. "I like your optimism."
He looked at me with a strange warmth. "Because this year, you're with me. I can't explain it, but you feel… connected to me, even though we're complete strangers. Maybe we knew each other in another life. I'm not one for such theories, but for you—" his smile deepened "—I'm willing to believe."
I stammered. "I… don't know. It's a bit overwhelming."
Sarla waved a hand dismissively. "No such thing as 'overwhelming' when it comes to friendship. The more, the better."
I coughed awkwardly.
He suddenly broke into laughter. "Relax, I'm joking. Just pulling your leg. Now go—get some rest."
He patted my shoulder with a force that nearly staggered me, then walked away without looking back.
I hurried to my room, shut the door, and locked it.
Both Meera's and Sarla's words kept echoing in my mind. On one hand, it felt righteous to end a monster like Sarla. On the other, killing him in the shadows, without giving him a chance to defend himself, seemed unjust. I wanted him to face me—fairly, openly.
The room was silent except for the pounding in my chest. I took a long gulp of water and sat on the cot. Slowly, I lay down, closing my eyes. The air was cool, carrying a gentle breeze through the window beside me.
Cathy's words surfaced from memory: "It is better to listen to your heart's wrong than the world's right." She was wise—wiser than most. And God, I miss her. If she had lived, maybe things would have been different. UCID or not, we would still have been hunting criminals, delivering punishment. But I wouldn't be this… hollow.
Meera is different. Gentle. Perhaps she is what my heart's wrong looks like. I want to run away with her—to the farthest corner of the Earth, away from this endless chaos. But that's a dream. Even if Sarla dies, she won't come spinning into my arms. This isn't a fairytale. And if it were, it would not be mine.
Sarla isn't the monster I must save Meera from. The true monster is my fate—unyielding, merciless. Or perhaps… it's me. Perhaps I'm the one she needs saving from.
A knock shattered my thoughts. I rose slowly and walked to the door.
It was Sumeet. He barged in, shoving me to the floor before the door could fully swing open.
"Why was the door locked? What are you hiding?" His voice was clipped, the kind that didn't wait for answers.
"Nothing. I was just taking a nap." I forced my tone into something calm, hoping it would bleed into him.
He didn't bite. Dropping onto the cot, he kicked his shoes off carelessly—one landing under the table, the other spinning to the far corner.
"Ms. Maria wants us back in London before the end of August. Vacation's over. She says we'll need to report back to headquarters. Sir Gravenberch isn't keeping well, and he's requested your presence before he dies."
My head snapped toward him. "Why? What happened?"
"Old age," Sumeet replied flatly. "And osteomalacia. Took a bad fall from the roof—fractured half his bones. Dementia's setting in, too. Forgets a lot. But you?" He gave a dry smirk. "You're still crystal-clear in his mind. Apparently, you impressed him once. Don't ask me why."
I let out a long breath, the kind that carries more weight than air. "I don't know what to say. Feels like I'm a puppet being dragged into a fight I don't understand."
"That's most of the time," Sumeet said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Our job isn't to think—it's to obey. Simple that way. But start listening to your own voice instead of orders, and you'll drown in confusion. This was never our battle. But you stepped into it, and there's no walking back now."
"The future doesn't look desirable," I muttered.
He laughed. "When does it ever?"
A sad chuckle slipped out of me despite myself.
I stepped outside. The sky was bruising into a darker shade, heavy with the weight of rain.
Maybe it was a sign — my own mind about to collapse into a storm of confusion.
It hadn't started raining yet. Under a lone tree, Meera stood with her back to me.
A cigarette burned between her fingers, its smoke curling upward before the wind stole it away. The breeze was cold, restless.
Without turning, she called my name.
I walked toward her. She didn't face me.
"Do you like me?"
The question hit like a branch cracking against my skull. I stammered.
"...Why?"
She took a slow drag, exhaled toward the sky.
"Sarla once looked at me the way you do. Or maybe it was my delusion… or his skill. With him, everything felt magical — love, marriage, sex. Like salvation. But the magic rotted. The truth was cruel, and I wasn't ready for it.
"I walked through fire to reach you. But you—" she glanced over her shoulder, "—you're like him. Cold. Emotionless. You have the same magic. Maybe more. I don't know why I'm drawn to you, but from the moment I saw you, I hated him more. You're the only one I see now.
"Will you stay with me forever?"
She turned fully toward me.
"It's not that easy," I said.
"Everything is easy if you want it badly enough. I got you, didn't I?"
She ran into my arms, hugging me tight. I pushed her away.
"No. It's wrong. Destiny wrote different paths for us."
She clung to me again, harder. "We can change destiny."
"Destiny is invincible. No one will be happy."
Her arms fell away. She stepped back toward the tree.
"I'll be here the day you end Sarla. This tree will either start my new life… or end it."
I said nothing. I turned and walked away without looking back.
Thunder rolled overhead, but the sound of my own heart was louder....