Chapter 99: The Five Intruders
Shergill Mansion, Gorakhpur — Morning | 18 June 1972
Morning light slipped into the room in thin strips through the curtains, touching the floor first before slowly climbing onto the bed.
Sakshi woke the way she always did — not gently, but like the world had personally disturbed her schedule.
The blanket shifted slightly at her feet.
Her hand immediately pulled it back without even opening her eyes properly.
Karan tugged it again, casual and unbothered.
That was enough to drag her fully into wakefulness.
She opened her eyes halfway and turned toward him with immediate irritation, already predicting what kind of morning this was going to be.
"You enjoy this too much," she muttered, pulling the blanket properly now like it was a matter of principle rather than comfort.
Karan didn't deny it. There was a faint, lazy smirk on his face — not loud, not deliberate, just there like it belonged.
That silence itself was his answer.
Sakshi stared at him for a second longer, then pushed his shoulder firmly, trying to break whatever mood he was enjoying.
"Stop behaving like a child," she said, still half annoyed, half used to this version of him.
The push barely moved him. Instead, he shifted slightly closer without thinking, like distance didn't exist in the morning version of their world.
"You react like one," he said, calm and casual, like he was just stating something obvious rather than provoking her but Smile on his face was saying something else
That made her glare deepen instantly. Not because it hurt, but because it was exactly the kind of thing he said when he knew she would react.
She pushed him again, harder this time, but this time he caught her wrist lightly before she could withdraw.
Not tight. Just enough to interrupt the motion.
Sakshi looked down at it immediately.
"What now?" she asked, annoyed but not surprised.
Karan didn't answer immediately. He just looked at her face for a moment like he was deciding whether to continue teasing or let the morning breathe.
Then he pulled her slightly, enough for her balance to break, and she ended up falling back beside him on the bed.
Sakshi sat up quickly, fixing her hair with sharp, irritated fingers.
"This is your idea of starting the day?" she asked, still frowning at him.
"Yes," he replied simply, like there was nothing unusual about it at all.
She hit his chest once in frustration, not hard enough to mean anything serious, just enough to respond.
Karan didn't move away from her irritation. Instead, he held her wrist again briefly when she tried to shift away, delaying her exit from the space rather than stopping her completely.
It wasn't control. It was habit — like he didn't like mornings ending too fast.
After a moment, he let go.
Sakshi stood up properly this time, fixing her hair with her fingers and walking toward the door with small, firm steps.
At the doorway, she paused and turned slightly, giving him a final warning look.
"If you come into my kitchen thinking too much, I'll send you right back," she said.
Karan leaned back slightly on the bed smiling, relaxed again, like nothing in the world required urgency yet.
"I don't think in the morning," he said.
Sakshi gave him a look that clearly didn't believe a single word, then turned and left.
---
The room didn't feel empty after she was gone.
It just changed its weight.
Karan stayed sitting for a moment longer than usual before reaching for the newspaper beside him.
He didn't open it immediately.
Just held it for a second.
Then unfolded it.
His eyes moved across headlines quickly — politics, trade, international notes — skipping most of it without interest.
Until one line stopped him completely.
Five men arrested after break-in at Watergate Hotel complex, Washington D.C.
He didn't react outwardly.
No surprise. No change in expression.
Just stillness.
Watergate.
The name didn't feel like something new to him.
It felt like something already completed somewhere else in time.
Five men arrested inside a political complex during an election period. At first glance, it looked like a contained incident — a failed break-in that would normally be dismissed as an overreach by lower-level operatives. Something embarrassing, but manageable.
But it never stayed at that level.
Because in his memory, Watergate was not a single incident. It was a chain that started with that exact moment and slowly built into something far larger.
It began when those five men were caught inside the Democratic National Committee offices at the Watergate complex. They were not ordinary thieves. They were connected to people working within President Nixon's re-election campaign structure, and their job was not robbery — it was surveillance. They were trying to access information and install listening devices inside political offices.
At first, the American system treated it like a contained breach. Something embarrassing, but manageable. Arrests were made quickly, and the expectation was simple — close the case, limit the damage, and move on before it became political fuel.
But the problem started when journalists did not stop.
As reporters began tracking the arrested men, they found financial links that did not match official explanations. Payments had been moved through hidden channels connected to campaign structures. The break-in was no longer an isolated act — it was part of an organized operation tied to political activity.
That changed everything.
Because now the question was not just who broke in, but who ordered it.
From there, the case expanded step by step. Investigators began tracing communication lines and money flows, and every layer they uncovered pointed higher than expected. What made it worse was not only what was discovered, but how the response unfolded. Instead of allowing full transparency, attempts were made to control information, limit investigation access, and manage public exposure.
But that control effort backfired.
Because every attempt to restrict the inquiry created more suspicion. Journalists pushed harder. Investigations widened. Political pressure increased instead of decreasing.
What started as a break-in slowly turned into exposure of internal political misuse of power within the United States government itself.
Over time, it escalated into congressional hearings, public testimony, and national investigation. And eventually, it reached the presidency — where the evidence and political pressure combined into something unprecedented in American history.
In 1974, President Richard Nixon resigned from office.
That was Watergate Scandal.
Not a burglary.
But a political system collapsing slowly after trying to hide a mistake instead of admitting it early.
Karan exhaled slightly, still holding the paper.
So it has started again, he thought.
Not the collapse.
Just the first visible crack of it.
He folded the newspaper slowly and placed it down.
"Watergate…" he murmured under his breath.
Not as discovery.
But as recognition of something already known.
---
The door opened again.
Sakshi returned with tea.
Barefoot, steady steps, the same familiar rhythm of the house.
She placed the cup beside him and lightly nudged his arm.
"Drink before it gets cold," she said.
Karan took it without moving away from her.
Sakshi sat beside him immediately, shoulder brushing his arm naturally, like it belonged there.
"Why are you quiet again?" she asked.
"I'm not," he said.
"You are," she replied instantly, without even looking convinced by his answer.
That made him exhale a short laugh — real, brief, unforced.
He drank the tea.
And stayed there.
Sakshi stayed too.
No urgency. No distance.
Just the slow gravity of mornings that didn't need to be spoken to exist.
Outside, the mansion had already started moving — footsteps, voices, life spreading through its corridors.
Inside, time stayed soft.
The newspaper lay open beside them.
And Watergate remained in Karan's mind — not as something he was discovering…
but as something he had already seen reach its end once before, now quietly beginning again from the very start.