The photograph wouldn't leave her hands.
Her father.
Alive.
Standing near Lake Pichola.
Lake Pichola
Behind him — the hooded figure.
Watching.
Waiting.
Aanya looked at Inspector Rathore.
"We're going there," she said.
"It could be a trap," he warned.
"It already is."
The storm had softened into a cold drizzle. The streets were nearly empty as they drove toward the lake. The city felt quieter than usual — like it was holding its breath.
When they reached the lakeside, the water looked dark. Restless.
Ten years ago, this was where everything changed.
And tonight, it felt like the past was waiting.
They stepped out of the car.
The air smelled of wet earth and water.
Aanya's heart pounded as they walked toward the old stone steps leading down to the lake.
Flash.
A sudden beam of light from across the water.
Someone was there.
A shadow moved near the trees.
"Stay behind me," Rathore said quietly.
But Aanya didn't step back.
She stepped forward.
"Papa!" she shouted.
Her voice echoed over the water.
Silence.
Then—
A figure emerged from the shadows.
Not her father.
The hooded man.
He stood still.
Watching them.
"You're late," the man's voice carried across the lake.
It wasn't distorted this time.
It was calm.
Controlled.
Familiar.
Rathore stiffened beside her.
"I know that voice," he muttered.
The hooded man removed his hood slowly.
Aanya's breath stopped.
It wasn't Karan.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was someone else entirely.
A man in his early thirties.
Sharp eyes. Cold expression.
"Karan didn't drown," the man said calmly. "But he didn't survive either."
Aanya felt dizzy.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm Rohan Mehta," he replied. "Karan's younger brother."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"You said he disappeared," she whispered to Rathore.
"He did," Rathore said faintly.
Rohan's lips curved slightly.
"I didn't disappear," he said. "I learned."
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"You all believed the story," Rohan continued. "That it was an accident. That no one would question five powerful men."
His gaze moved to Rathore.
"You watched them lie."
Rathore clenched his fists.
"And you waited ten years?" Aanya demanded.
"Yes," Rohan replied. "Because justice takes patience."
The wind grew stronger.
"What happened to my father?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Rohan looked at her.
"He's alive."
Relief flooded her chest.
"For now."
Her breath caught again.
"He wasn't the worst of them," Rohan continued. "But he was silent. Silence is also guilt."
Tears burned in Aanya's eyes.
"You killed them?" she asked.
Rohan's expression didn't change.
"I gave them the same fear they gave my brother."
The lake water crashed lightly against the stones.
"Karan didn't die instantly," Rohan said quietly. "He was breathing when they left."
Aanya's world shattered.
"They left him?" she whispered.
Rathore looked away.
Guilt written clearly on his face.
"They panicked," he said.
"And my brother drowned alone," Rohan finished.
Silence.
Heavy.
Painful.
"Where is my father?" Aanya asked again.
Rohan pointed toward an old abandoned boathouse near the edge of the lake.
"Inside," he said. "He's waiting."
"For what?" Rathore asked.
Rohan's eyes darkened.
"For the truth to finally be spoken."
Lightning flashed across the sky.
And in that bright, terrifying second—
Aanya realized something.
This wasn't just revenge.
This was a confession.
And someone wasn't going to walk away tonight.