The rain had not stopped for three days in Kolkata.
It fell like a warning.
Maya stood at the old tram station near Esplanade, clutching her phone, staring at the last message Aarav had sent.
"If anything happens, trust no one."
That was it.
No explanation. No call. No reply.
Aarav was not the kind of man who disappeared. He was precise, careful — almost too careful. A cybersecurity analyst who lived in codes and secrets, he often joked that the world was just one big encrypted file waiting to be cracked.
But this? This wasn't a joke.
It had been 48 hours.
And now Maya's phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
Her heart thudded painfully as she answered.
"Stop looking for him."
The voice was distorted. Mechanical. Cold.
The call ended.
Maya met Aarav eight months ago at a small book café in Park Street. She had been scribbling story ideas, pretending to be productive. He had asked if the seat across from her was free. Their conversation began with fiction and ended with coffee at midnight.
He said he liked how she asked too many questions.
She said she liked how he avoided answering them.
Somewhere between shared umbrellas and stolen glances, she fell in love.
But there were always gaps in his life — late-night calls he never explained, sudden trips, the way he'd switch off his phone for hours.
She had trusted him anyway.
Until now.
That evening, Maya did the one thing Aarav had once told her never to do.
She went to his apartment.
The building stood in a narrow lane, lights flickering from voltage fluctuations caused by the storm. His door was locked. No response to her knocking.
But something felt wrong.
The doormat was missing.
Aarav never moved it. He once laughed and said, "It hides the spare key. If it's gone, something's wrong."
Her breath caught.
She checked.
No key.
Instead, she found a folded piece of paper wedged under the door.
Three words.
Locker 27. Central Station.
Maya's mind raced as she reached the railway station. The platform was crowded despite the rain. She located the locker room, her hands trembling as she found number 27.
It required a six-digit code.
Aarav's birthday? No.
Her birthday? No.
The day they met.
The lock clicked open.
Inside was a small black hard drive and a handwritten note.
"Maya,
If you're reading this, it means they've moved faster than I expected. I stumbled onto something big — financial records, illegal transfers, powerful people. I thought I could expose them quietly.
I was wrong.
They know about you.
Don't go home. Don't call anyone. Trust only Kabir."
Kabir.
Aarav's college friend. The one she had met only once.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time, a message.
A photo.
It was Aarav.
Tied to a chair.
Alive.
Underneath the image, a text:
"Bring the drive to Prinsep Ghat at midnight. Come alone."
The clock struck 11:45 PM as Maya stood by the river at Prinsep Ghat. The Hooghly River was dark, restless, reflecting fractured city lights.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
She wasn't alone.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
"Give it to me."
The same distorted voice.
A tall man stepped out of the shadows, face hidden beneath a hood.
She clutched the hard drive tightly. "Where is Aarav?"
"Safe. For now."
She hesitated.
Then she remembered the note.
Trust only Kabir.
"Funny," she said, stalling. "Aarav told me something else."
The man tilted his head. "What?"
"That you'd say that."
Before he could react, headlights flashed from the road above. Police sirens cut through the rain.
The hooded man cursed and ran.
Maya's knees nearly gave out as officers surrounded the area.
And then she saw him.
Kabir stepped out of a police vehicle.
Relief flooded her — until she saw his expression.
It wasn't relief.
It was guilt.
"You did well," Kabir said quietly, guiding her away from the crowd. "Give me the drive. It's safer with the authorities."
Something in his tone was wrong.
Too smooth.
Too rehearsed.
"Where is Aarav?" she demanded.
Kabir avoided her eyes. "He made mistakes, Maya. Dangerous ones. Some truths… aren't meant to be revealed."
Her blood ran cold.
"You betrayed him."
Kabir sighed. "You don't understand. The people involved — they're untouchable. Aarav thought he could destroy them. I tried to warn him."
"So you handed him over?"
"I protected myself."
The world seemed to tilt.
"You said trust only Kabir," she whispered.
Kabir gave a hollow laugh. "Yes. He did."
Suddenly, Maya understood.
The message wasn't telling her to trust Kabir.
It was a warning about him.
Trust only Kabir.
Meaning — Kabir was the only one he suspected.
The only one close enough to betray him.
"You're smarter than he thought," Kabir said softly. "But not smart enough."
He reached for the drive.
Maya stepped back — and dropped it into the river.
Kabir lunged forward, but it was too late. The hard drive disappeared into the dark water.
"You fool!" he shouted.
Police officers turned at the commotion.
Kabir's mask cracked. Panic replaced composure.
"You think that was the only copy?" Maya said, heart hammering.
It was a gamble.
A bluff.
Kabir froze.
Sirens wailed again — closer this time. Real this time.
From the shadows near the ghat steps, a weak voice called her name.
"Maya…"
She turned.
Aarav stumbled forward, bruised but alive, supported by two officers.
Her breath caught.
Kabir's face drained of color as more police surrounded him.
"You recorded everything," Kabir muttered, realization dawning.
Aarav managed a faint smile at Maya.
"Encryption," he whispered. "Always have backups."
Kabir was taken away in handcuffs, shouting threats that dissolved into the storm.
Later, under hospital lights, Maya sat beside Aarav's bed.
"You scared me," she said, tears finally falling.
"I'm sorry," he replied softly. "I thought I could handle it alone."
She squeezed his hand. "No more secrets."
He nodded.
"No more secrets."
Outside, the rain finally stopped over Kolkata.
But Maya knew something had changed.
Love wasn't just about stolen coffees and whispered promises.
Sometimes it was about standing in the dark, choosing to trust — even when fear screamed otherwise.
She looked at Aarav, fragile but alive.
And for the first time since the message, her heart felt steady again.
Because this time, there were no hidden codes.
Only truth.
And a love that had survived the storm.