Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I watched as Shivansh disappeared toward the back cottage. Mamma gently urged me to head to our room and rest, considering the late hour and my recovering ankle. Reluctantly, I nodded, my mind racing with worry for Shivansh. Despite my exhaustion, I knew sleep wouldn't come easily tonight. A sudden thought struck me: If he can't come inside, maybe I can go to him. Determined, I quickly made my way upstairs to our room.
Once inside, I decided to freshen up before sneaking out to the cottage. By the time I was ready, everyone would likely be asleep, making it easier to leave unnoticed. I hurried to the bathroom, changed into more comfortable clothes, and returned to the room. The house was eerily silent, confirming my suspicion that everyone had retired for the night.
As I prepared to leave, I grabbed my bag and rummaged through it for my phone. My fingers brushed against something unfamiliar, and I pulled out a few photographs. My heart sank as I examined them more closely.
The first photo was of Shivansh and Surya, their faces stern and tense, holding weapons. My breath hitched in my throat as I turned to the next image. It showed a group of badly injured sex workers-some unconscious, tied to chairs, their bodies battered and bruised there near them. Among them were young girls, their lifeless forms suggesting unspeakable horrors. The ight was unbearable, and shock coursed through me.
Confused and terrified, I noticed a folded piece of paper nestled within the photographs. I quickly unfolded it, my hands shaking. The message read:
"If you want to know the truth behind this pictures, call the number below."
At the bottom, a phone number was scribbled hastily. My mind raced-Who put these in my bag? I thought back to earlier when I had fallen in the crowd. Had someone intentionally pushed me? Had they slipped these into my bag in the chaos?
Panic rising, I quickly dialed the number on the paper. The phone rang, but no one picked up. My anxiety deepened as I tried again. This time, someone answered, but there was only silence on the other end.
"H-hello?" I stammered, fear creeping into my voice.
Still, there was no response.
I tried again. "Hello? Who is this?"
Finally, a low voice replied, chilling me to the bone: "If you want to know the truth behind the photos, meet me tomorrow behind the Durga temple near your NGO."
Before I could respond or ask anything, the line went dead.
I stood there, the phone slipping from my grasp as dread settled over me. What had I just stumbled upon? And what was I supposed to do now?
Heart racing, I felt a cold sweat break out on my skin as I stood frozen in the dim light of the room. The weight of the photographs and the ominous message hung over me like a heavy fog. I paced back and forth, trying to process everything.What should I do?
