This time, it was Vidya who held the gun—its barrel cold and steady—pointed directly at Lalan Raj. The air around them grew unbearably tense, as though time itself had frozen. Everything stood still, like the world had paused to witness this confrontation. Then, breaking the silence, Lalan spoke—his voice low, burdened with truths long buried.
"Years ago," he began, "I was nothing more than a local goon. Not big, not important. But I was making my way up. Different crime syndicates had started to notice me. They were offering crores, just to have me on their side. All because of my skills—my ability to knock down anyone who dared to stand in my way. People feared me. They didn't even speak when I was around."
He paused, his eyes momentarily distant, then continued.
"But then... I met your sister."
Vidya's grip on the gun didn't falter, but her brows furrowed. Lalan glanced at her, a shadow of something soft flickering across his face.
"I was drinking tea at a roadside stall. That's when she appeared. Beautiful, yes—but more than that, fierce. Unshakably fierce. One day, I saw her being falsely accused of breaking a traffic rule. The police inspector was yelling at her. But instead of feeling embarrassed or backing down in fear, she stood tall. Bold. She answered him straight to his face. Told him exactly what she thought. In the end, she walked away with just a small fine, but the way she stood her ground... it left a mark on me."
Vidya remained motionless, her expression unreadable. But then she snapped, her voice sharp. "What are you saying? I asked how you killed my sister—not your past, not your stories."
Lalan's tone deepened, growing calmer and heavier with meaning. "Before you hear how she reached the doorstep of death, you need to know what she meant to me—what our connection truly was."
Vidya's thoughts spiraled. No... there's no way. Her eyes shifted, doubt creeping in. My sister would never be involved with someone like him. Her mind raced back to the photograph—just a trick, a mistake, a false impression. I have to find out the truth. I have to be sure.
Lalan took a slow breath, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of memory.
"Anyway," he continued, "after that incident near the tea stall, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I told my colleagues I wanted to meet her. But they… they laughed. Told me women are just tools—meant to be used, not respected. They said I should just approach her, act bold, satisfy my lust, and she'd fall into my hands in a second."
He paused, ashamed.
"I was a fool back then. I believed them. I approached her with that same dirty mindset. But instead of getting what I expected… I got slapped. Right there, in front of everyone."
Lalan looked down, his voice almost reverent as he recalled her words.
"She said, 'You're not bad—but don't try to be one.' That line... it flipped my whole world upside down."
He gave a small, hollow chuckle.
"After that day, I started following her—never to bother, just to see her. Every morning, without fail. It became part of my routine. Like watching the sunrise. I think she noticed me, but she always chose to ignore it. And that same friend—the one who gave me that disgusting advice—I beat the sense back into him. Now, he stands by me, silent and loyal."
Lalan's voice dropped a note lower.
"My days passed like that. At night, I did my usual work. But every morning began with her. She became my first thought, my quiet priority."
He inhaled slowly.
"Then came the day that changed everything."
His tone hardened, edged with something darker.
"She was walking home from work, and a man was following her—a bully who had been harassing her for a while. I was on his trail, but I lost him in the crowd. Minutes later, I heard a woman's scream. I ran toward the sound and saw him... he had grabbed her wrist so hard she was crying out in pain."
Lalan's fists clenched at the memory.
"I charged at him. Just one punch to the chin, and he was out cold. And then... she hugged me. Tightly. That moment—" his voice cracked slightly, "—I felt blessed."
A faint smile touched his lips, but only for a moment.
"After that, we started meeting every day. Slowly, our connection deepened, and we confessed our feelings for each other. I thought I had found peace. But destiny had its own plans."
Lalan paused, the silence thickening. Then he spoke again, slower this time.
"One evening, we were walking together down a quiet street. That same bully returned—but this time, he wasn't alone. He came with a gang—riding bikes, carrying steel pipes. Before I could react, one of them hit me in the head. I fell. Blood was running down my face. But even through the haze, I saw him—approaching her with vile intent."
His jaw tightened.
"I slammed my hand against the ground and forced myself up. Something inside me snapped. In one moment, I brought down every single one of them. And then... it started to rain."
His eyes grew distant.
"The bully—the last one left—pulled out a knife. He grabbed her, held the blade to her throat, and screamed that he would slit it if I moved. But I didn't wait. I couldn't. I rushed him before he could even twitch. I wrestled the knife from him... and ended him with it."
A long silence followed. Then Lalan's voice softened.
"But that night… she saw who I really was. The side I never wanted her to see. The blood. The violence. The darkness. She was terrified. I tried to stop her, explain everything. But she stepped back, eyes full of fear, and whispered, 'I can't.' Then she turned and walked away."
Lalan looked up at Vidya, his eyes hollow.
"From that day on… I was alone again."
After listening to everything, Vidya's face contorted with rage. Her voice cracked through the heavy silence like a whip.
"You're lying!" she shouted, eyes blazing. "All of this—just stories! My sister would never love someone like you. Just tell me the truth!"
She drew in a deep breath, steadying her hand as she loaded the gun. Her knuckles turned white with pressure.
"Now you've pissed me off," she growled. "I'll kill you. I've had enough of your blabbering—"
Before she could pull the trigger, the old woman beside her stepped forward, trembling.
"No, my child," she pleaded softly. "Don't commit this sin. Please… drop the gun."
Vidya didn't look at her. Her voice was sharp, but no longer shouting.
"I know he's your son. You kept that secret from me. But it's fine. I won't hold a grudge against you—or anyone else."
Her gaze shifted back to Lalan, now cold and cutting.
"But this man... to him, I feel nothing but pure hate."
Lalan's eyes were low, but his voice was calm, almost tired.
"I never meant to scratch old wounds," he said. "But you reminded me of her... That's the only reason I started telling you all this. I didn't want to. Because frankly, it's none of your concern."
Vidya's fury exploded.
"What did you just say!?" she screamed.
In that moment, she forgot the gun in her hand and rushed at him, aiming to push him. But Lalan moved faster—he caught her wrist mid-swing and, with a swift motion, tossed her out of the room. She hit the floor outside, the gun slipping from her hand. The old lady hurried to her side, cradling her gently.
Through ragged breaths, Vidya spoke, her voice breaking.
"You… you said it's none of my business? She was my sister! My elder sister! She went missing for five months, and all I've heard since I got here is trash!"
Lalan stepped forward, towering over her, eyes sharp.
"The trash you're talking about... is you," he said coldly. "You're the fool who came here by choice. And now that I'm telling you the truth, you can't face it? Pathetic."
Vidya fell silent. For a moment, there was no sound but the faint rustle of wind outside the room.
Then, in a quiet but firm voice, the old lady spoke.
"Even if all this is true... then why did you kill her?"
Lalan's gaze dropped. A long silence hung in the air before he finally said,
"As I've already told you… I didn't kill her."
He looked between the two women, voice turning deeper, wearier.
"But since neither of you will stop pressing for it… I'll tell you what really happened."
Now the air was thick with tension. The question lingered heavily in the silence: what truth was Lalan hiding? Was this truly the moment he would finally reveal everything—or was it just another carefully crafted mask, another face of Lalan meant to mislead?
The fire in Vidya's eyes had not faded, but her breath was shaky, her body exhausted from the emotional storm. The old lady held her close, eyes filled with silent fear. Lalan stood tall, unmoved, his shadow casting long in the dim light of the room.
Was he truly innocent, or was this just the beginning of a deeper lie?
The truth—or whatever version of it Lalan was about to unveil—waited on the edge of his lips.
The answer lies ahead.
It will be uncovered in the next chapter.