Cid Vs The Eye

Chapter 7: The Breaking Point

The fluorescent lights of the CID bureau cast harsh shadows across the room, their incessant humming creating an oppressive atmosphere that seemed to press down on everyone present. The air was thick with tension, punctuated only by the soft shuffling of papers and the distant sound of traffic from the street below. In this sterile environment where justice was supposed to prevail, Officer Shreya Agarwal sat like a prisoner in her own workplace, surrounded by colleagues who had become her interrogators.

The phone's shrill ring cut through the suffocating silence like a blade through silk. Every head turned toward the sound, but it was Shreya's trembling fingers that hesitated over the device, her heart already bracing for the storm she knew was coming. Her instincts, honed by years of police work, told her this call would only add to her nightmare.

DCP: whispering beside her, "Speaker pe karo."

The moment she complied, her mother's voice erupted from the device—raw with worry that had festered overnight into rage. The sound filled the room, making every officer present an unwilling witness to a family's unravelling.

Shreya's Mother: voice sharp with panic and anger "Kab se call kar rahi hoon! Ho kahan akhir tum? Itni laparwahi... koi fikar hi nahi hai hamari. Pata hai bureau mein kaam hota hai par itna time nahi tha tumhare paas ki tum hamara call receive kar lo?"

The words came like bullets, each one finding its mark. Shreya closed her eyes, feeling the familiar ache of guilt spreading through her chest like poison. Her colleagues watched as the confident officer they knew began to crumble under the weight of maternal concern wrapped in accusation. This was the woman who had faced down criminals without flinching, now reduced to a trembling figure by her mother's worried voice.

Shreya's Mother: continuing her relentless questioning, "Kab se call kar kar ke thak gaye aur tum ho ki tumhe kuch padi hi nahi hai... Kitna pareshaan ho rahe the hum, pata hai? Jaan gale mein aa gayi thi."

The phone felt like lead in Shreya's hands. Each word from her mother was a painful reminder of the normalcy she had lost, perhaps forever. Yesterday, her biggest worry had been missing a family call. Today, she stood accused of murder, her life transformed into an unrecognisable nightmare.

Shreya's Mother: voice taking on a more investigative tone "Aur waise raat bhar thi kahan tum? Kyunki maine sau do baar landline par phone kiya aur tumne receive nahi kiya. Phir Lisa se poocha to usne bataya ki tum raat bhar ghar nahi aayi. Akhir ho kahan tum? Siddharth ko bhi phone kiya tha... usne bhi kaha ki tum nahi ho uske saath."

The interrogation continued, but now it felt different from the harsh questioning she'd endured from her superiors. This was a mother's desperate attempt to piece together her daughter's shattered world from hundreds of miles away, armed only with fragments of information and a heart full of fear.

Shreya's Mother: disappointment creeping into her voice, "Shreya, hamare jaate hi tum itni careless kaise ho jaati ho? Hum hamesha nahi honge tumhare saath, tumhara khayal rakhne ke liye. Tum ab badi ho gayi ho... apna khayal rakhna kab sikhogi?"

The irony wasn't lost on her. Here she was, a trained officer, someone who dedicated her life to protecting others, and she couldn't even protect herself from the nightmare that had engulfed her existence. She stared at the familiar faces around her—colleagues who had become strangers, friends who now looked at her with suspicion.

Shreya's Mother: frustration boiling over "Call nahi kar sakti thi? At least text kar deti... I can't bear your attitude!"

That word—attitude—hit her like a physical blow. If only her mother knew what she was truly going through, would she still use such harsh words? Would she understand that her daughter's world had collapsed in a single night?