From the outside, Mehera's garment shop look harmless.
Rows of folded fabric, mannequins frozen mid-smile, glass windows polished to reflect trust. But anyone who has watched closely knows—competition lives in the seams.
Every morning, shutters rise like unspoken challenges.
Our shop displays brighter colors. There lowers prices by a fraction.
We add a new signboard, They changes the lighting.
Nothing is said, yet everything is noticed.
Garments don't just clothe bodies; they carry status, politics, timing.
A delayed shipment can ruin a season.
A copied design can erase months of effort.
A rumor about quality can travel faster than truth.
Owners pretend to be cordial.
They exchange nods, share tea, talk about weather and festivals.
But their eyes drift—toward footfall, toward new racks, toward which shop the customers choose to enter first.
Competition in garments is rarely loud.
It is measured in:
who gets the better fabric supplier
who understands the customer's silence
who adapts before the trend expires
Sometimes, rivalry turns bitter.
Sometimes, it stays professional.
But it is always present—stitched into every hem.
The market teaches one lesson early:
survival belongs not to the biggest shop, but to the most aware one.
And when night falls and shutters close,
the fabrics rest—
but the competition doesn't. Said by Urmila Rajpal.
So you mean by they had a tough competition? Mahi said .
Yes but We didn't imagine that the competition will lead to a murder. Then her voice shaked, Kumari was in my daughter-in-laws house for 6 months , that's why she wasn't being killed by them and they didn't know much about her. It's god's blessing that I have Kumari by my side but mehra's garments have forced me to testimony that it was just an accident not a murder but it is and I know that. She said her voice still feeling like she is on a verge to cry.
Can you Tell us about everything ?said Nikil.
Yes! She said .
The city learned about the accident the way it learned about most things—through half-truths printed in small columns.
A hit-and-run.
Late evening.
Three members of a family connected to a garment shop were declared dead on the spot.
No names were emphasized at first. What mattered, the reports said, was that the driver had fled.
1. The Night Everyone Agreed On
Mukul Mehra's car was found abandoned less than a kilometer away. The damage told a story the city was ready to believe—speed, carelessness, privilege.
Dev Kumar was the only eyewitness who mattered.
He was Mukul's closest associate. His friend. His shadow.
When Dev first stood before the police, his voice was calm.
> "Mukul wasn't drunk," he said clearly.
"He was shaken. The road was dark. It was an accident."
That testimony changed everything.
Without intoxication, the charge softened.
Without recklessness, the outrage dulled.
Mukul's father, Rakesh Mehra, used his influence carefully—never openly, never enough to draw attention. The case stayed alive, but barely breathing.
2. The Garment Market Beneath the Case
What the papers didn't connect was the garment market.
The victims owned Singh Textiles, a shop that had quietly overtaken Mehra Garments in contracts, suppliers, and local trust. They refused political sponsorship. They refused to sell loyalty along with fabric.
Mukul had noticed.
He watched as customers crossed the road instead of entering his family's store.
He listened as suppliers delayed shipments.
He heard his father say, more than once, "This town runs on alignment."
Competition was no longer about business.
It was about control.
3. The Second Testimony
Months later, Dev Kumar returned to the witness stand.
This time, his voice trembled.
> "I lied before," he said.
"Mukul was drunk. He was driving too fast. I panicked."
The courtroom shifted.
So did the case.
Public anger returned with force. Social media exploded. The accident narrative hardened into guilt.
But investigators noticed something strange.
Dev's statements contradicted more than just each other.
They contradicted timelines.
They contradicted phone records.
They contradicted physics.
And slowly, the word accident began to dissolve.
4. The Truth That Wouldn't Stay Buried
A reopened investigation uncovered meetings—quiet ones.
Between Mukul.
Between Dev.
Between political intermediaries who had no business caring about garment shops.
The night of the incident was no coincidence.
The route was chosen.
The timing precise.
The hit-and-run wasn't reckless.
It was designed.
The three family members were not victims of speed.
They were obstacles.
And Dev Kumar was not a confused witness.
He was a tool.
5. The Ultimate Betrayal
What Mukul never expected was his father's silence.
When evidence pointed unmistakably toward planning, Rakesh Mehra did not interfere. He did not deny. He did not negotiate.
Instead, he met the prosecutor privately.
Rakesh Mehra had built his life on survival.
He knew when a battle would destroy more than it saved.
Mukul realized the truth too late.
His father had protected the business—not the son.
In court, Rakesh confirmed details only an insider could know. The final thread unraveled.
Mehra Garments survived.
Singh Textiles did not.
If you have to come to court and testimony it is can you come to the court? It's a matter of an innocent person who didn't did any wrong but his father did . His father came to our form and was so convinced us that he loved his son and we can save him but he only knowed that there is no chance of him saving this is all a conspiracy nothing else.
So please this will be justice to your three family members and to Mukul. Mahi said not believing what she has heard but still at her place trying to calm down.
Yes I will come and testimony this I had enough now I will fight despite how long the battle goes said Urmila Singh.
Thank you so much this means a lot, said Nikhil.
As they both left they hugged Urmila and wave Kumari goodbye.
But there was a question inside their head why?
A father how can he do that but this was what it was.