The air felt heavier than before.
Aanya stepped aside and let Inspector Arjun Rathore enter the house.
His shoes were still wet from the damp street outside. He looked around slowly—not curious, not surprised.
Observing.
"You said this has happened before," Aanya said carefully. "Five people. Same date. Same rain."
Inspector Rathore didn't immediately answer.
Instead, he looked at her.
"You've been researching," he said.
It wasn't a question.
Aanya's fingers tightened slightly. She didn't mention the box. Not yet.
"You asked about Lake Pichola," she said. "Why?"
For a brief second—just a second—his calm expression shifted.
Then it returned.
"Ten years ago," he said quietly, "a young man drowned there."
"I know," Aanya replied before she could stop herself.
His eyes sharpened.
"You know?"
The room went silent.
Rain began again outside—soft at first.
Aanya realized something.
If she told him everything… and he wasn't trustworthy…
She would be alone.
Her father's last words echoed in her mind.
Trust no one.
Inspector Rathore stepped closer.
"That drowning case," he continued, "was ruled an accident."
"But?" Aanya asked.
He studied her face carefully.
"But there were inconsistencies."
The rain grew louder.
"There were five witnesses," he said. "All friends. All claimed the young man slipped near the edge."
Aanya swallowed.
Five witnesses.
Five men.
Five disappearances.
"One by one," the inspector continued, "each of those witnesses has vanished on 17 July."
His voice lowered.
"Your father was the last one."
Aanya felt the ground shift beneath her.
"Last?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said.
"Because there were six people there that night."
Her breath stopped.
Six?
"The victim," he said quietly, "had a younger brother."
Silence.
"The brother wasn't listed in the report. He disappeared after the funeral. No trace. No statements. Nothing."
Aanya's pulse raced.
"So you think—"
"I think," the inspector said carefully, "someone waited ten years."
Thunder cracked.
Louder than before.
Suddenly—
The lights flickered.
Then went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Aanya's breath quickened.
The rain outside became violent.
"Stay calm," Inspector Rathore said.
But even his voice sounded tense now.
Another flash of lightning lit up the room—
And for that split second—
Aanya saw something through the window.
A figure.
Standing across the street.
Watching the house.
Lightning vanished.
Darkness returned.
Her heart pounded.
"Did you see that?" she whispered.
"See what?" the inspector asked sharply.
Another flash—
The street was empty.
No one there.
Was it her imagination?
Or was someone truly watching?
Her phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
The inspector noticed.
"Answer it," he said.
Her hands trembled as she picked up.
Silence.
Then—
A whisper.
"You found the diary."
Her blood froze.
"You're asking the wrong questions," the voice continued softly. "Ask your inspector what really happened that night."
The call disconnected.
Slowly—
Aanya turned toward Inspector Rathore.
His expression had changed.
He wasn't calm anymore.
He looked… exposed.
"You were there," she said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
Silence.
Rain thundered against the windows.
And finally—
Inspector Rathore spoke.
"Yes."
He was the sixth person.