He knew everything.
Not just about her.
About her family.
Her routines.
Meera’s voice became barely audible.
— “Who are you?”
Ajay looked down at the folder for a moment.
For the first time that night, something flickered across his face.
Pain.
Real pain.
Then he pulled out one final photograph and handed it to her.
Meera looked down.
The girl in the picture looked almost exactly like her.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
Same long black hair.
But the photo looked old.
At least fifteen years old.
The girl couldn’t have been older than seventeen.
Meera frowned.
— “Who is she?”
Ajay’s jaw tightened.
— “My sister.”
Silence.
— “Her name was Kavya.”
He swallowed hard before continuing.
— “She trusted the wrong man.”
Meera didn’t speak.
Ajay stared at the photo like he had memorized every inch of it.
— “He pretended to love her. Promised marriage. Promised a future.”
His voice became colder with every sentence.
— “Then he filmed private moments without her knowledge.”
Meera felt sick.
Ajay continued:
— “When she tried to leave him, he blackmailed her.”
His hands clenched tightly.
— “Three weeks later, my sister jumped from the sixth floor of her college hostel.”
The room fell silent again.
Meera didn’t know what to say.
