SHIDDAT ~ Where Love Burns With The Flames of Passion

The Cat and Mouse Game

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Samar's pov:

"Mister Pikachu,

I am so angry with you. I waited for a response from your side for a whole week, and you didn't reply at all, even though you received my letter. Yes, I know you got my letter, and if you received it, you must have read it too.

Now you must be wondering how I know you got my letter.

So, let me tell you, Mr. Pikachu, I am not the same naive Shiddat from our childhood anymore. Chaaro dishaao me nazre rehti hai meri, sab pata chal jaata hai mujhe."

(My eyes and ears are everywhere. I find out everything)

My eyebrows furrowed as I read the lines again. She knows that I got her letter and that I have read it too?

I mean, she thinks the Pikachu guy got her letter, but instead of him, I received it.

But the bigger question here was, how did she know it? How did she know that the letter had been read? This question nagged at me.

It wasn't just that she assumed the letter was delivered—it was the certainty in her words. There had to be more to this.

As I sat there, turning the envelope in my hands, an idea struck me. Maybe the letter itself held clues.

I inspected the envelope and the letter more carefully, looking for any hidden messages or markings.

My eyes scanned the paper for anything unusual—maybe a watermark, invisible ink, or a subtle imprint.

But there was nothing out of the ordinary.

I leaned back, thinking about all the possibilities. Now this thing was getting strange by the minute.

What if she had a way to track the letters? Perhaps she had a friend or an accomplice who checked the letterbox and reported back to her. Or maybe she had someone keeping an eye on the house?

The more I thought about it, the more curious I became.

There had to be some logical explanation.

I decided to examine the letter and envelope once more, this time with a more focused mind. I held the envelope up to the light, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

I flipped the letter over, feeling the texture of the paper between my fingers. Still nothing.

Then an idea came into my mind—the cameras.

I could check the cameras of my house, which cover the exterior, including the letterbox, to see who was delivering these mysterious letters.

Yes, this would definitely give me some answers.

I instantly walked towards the room where all the cameras of the house are monitored. Reaching the security room, I quickly pulled up the footage from the past week.

My heart sank as I noticed that the main camera, which covers the front gate and the letterbox, was not working.

"Shit!" I murmured to myself.

The camera had been down for days. This meant that the person delivering the letters wouldn't be visible on the footage.

I slumped into the chair. What were the chances that the one camera I needed wasn't working?

This was starting to feel like a scene from a mystery novel—one of those frustrating, coincidental obstacles thrown in to keep the protagonist guessing.