Inspector Viraj still looks uneasy. “If Kavya or Sidharth find out…” he begins, his tone laced with warning.
“They won’t. Please. I’ll handle everything.”
He exhales slowly, his lips pressed into a line. Then he looks over his shoulder and calls out, “Deshmukh!”
A young constable appears from around the corridor.
“Take Miss Nisha to the holding cells. One supervised meeting. Ten minutes, no more.”
“Yes, sir,” the young constable replies.
Inspector Viraj turns back to me, still looking uncertain. “He doesn’t deserve your time, Nisha. Just be careful.”
I nod once, my heart pounding, and follow the constable down the corridor. The scent of rusted iron and sweat clings to the air, curling into my nostrils like a warning.
As we approach the holding cells, I spot him. He’s sitting on a bench inside the dimly lit cell, his elbows resting on his knees, head bowed, like he’s just another weary man serving time. But I know better. That posture, that stillness, it’s all a mask. One I’ve seen before. One that hides the rot beneath.
He senses me before I can speak because he lifts his head. The second our eyes meet, his lips curl into a grin. Not the kind that welcomes, but the kind that slices straight through you. Cold. Calculated. Mocking.
“Well, well…” he drawls, a smug gleam in his eyes as he rises to his feet. “Sleeping Beauty awakens and walks into hell to meet the devil himself.”
I don’t respond. I step closer and stop right outside the bars. The constable gives me a brief glance, then positions himself near the entrance, far enough to give us space, close enough to intervene if it turns ugly.
I take in Prakash’s disheveled brown hair, his sunken cheeks, and the shadows under his eyes. And yet, despite it all, the arrogance in his posture hasn’t faded.
“You look good, I must say. Just like the first time I laid eyes on you,” he says, his brown eyes roaming up and down in quiet appraisal.
My fists clench at my sides, but I don’t rise to the bait. “I made a mistake loving a devil like you.”
“Of course you did,” he winks. “But then again, love has a way of turning even smart women into fools. You were my prettiest fool, Nisha.”
The words sting like a slap, but I refuse to let him have that power over me now.
“I didn’t come here for nostalgia,” I say coldly. “I came for answers.”
“Oh?” He tilts his head and leans against the bars casually. “Are we playing Twenty20 now?”
Ignoring his question, I ask one of my own. “Someone sent me an email threatening me and my sister.”
He looks at me with mock innocence. “You think I sent it?” He shakes his head, then lets out a low, sinister chuckle. “Do you think I get internet privileges in here, Nisha?”
“I know it’s not you,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the fire in my chest. “But the person who sent me the email clearly said that you two were a team, that you were doing all ofthis on his orders.” I lock eyes with him. “So stop playing games, Prakash, and just give me the name.”
“And if I don’t give you the name, what will you do? Ask the cops to beat it out of me?” He grins, daring me to do just that.
“I will, if I have to.”
His smile turns darker. “Go ahead. Do it. Burn the whole world down if you want. But you won’t get a name from me.”
My jaw tightens, my chest burning. “Who is it, Prakash?”
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Let’s just say loyalty isn’t as dead as you think.”
Before I can reply, he leans in, his breath sickeningly calm. “And if the cops touch me, you’ll get your stage. But so will I. Imagine the headlines:The tragic survivor, Nisha, and her torrid affair with the man who ruined her.The public will eat it up. You won’t get a name, but they’ll get a show.”
For a split second, my breath catches, not from fear, but from the ache of recognition.How had I ever loved this man? Maybe now I understand that what I thought was love was nothing but poison.
“You think I’m afraid of what people will say? Let them know about us. Let them talk. Let them write their headlines. You’re forgetting something, Prakash… I survived you. And if you think our affair going public is going to scare me back into silence, then you’ve clearly forgotten who the hell I’m now.” I lean closer. “You want a show? Fine. But remember, when the curtain falls, the villain always loses.”
