The fluorescent lights of the CID bureau buzzed low and constant, throwing flat shadows across a room that suddenly felt too small. Papers shuffled without real purpose. Somewhere outside, traffic rolled on, indifferent. Inside, Shreya Agarwal sat surrounded by people she'd once called family — and right now, every one of them felt like a stranger studying her for cracks.
The phone's ring sliced through the silence. Every head turned. Shreya's fingers hovered over it, her whole body already bracing for what was coming.
DCP Chitrole: (leaning in, voice low) "Speaker pe karo."
The moment she picked up, her mother's voice spilled into the room — worry that had curdled into anger somewhere over a long, sleepless night. Every officer present became an unwilling witness.
Shreya's Mother: (sharp with panic) "Kab se call kar rahi hoon main! Ho kahan tum akhir? Itni laapravaahi... humari koi fikar hi nahi tumhe. Pata hai bureau mein kaam hota hai, par itna bhi time nahi tha ki ek call receive kar leti?"
The words landed like small blows, one after another. Shreya shut her eyes. The colleagues around her watched the officer who never flinched at a crime scene start to come apart under the weight of her own mother's worry.
Shreya's Mother: "Kab se call kar kar ke thak gayi main, aur tumhe kuch farak hi nahi. Kitna pareshaan the hum, pata hai? Jaan gale mein aa gayi thi."
Yesterday her biggest worry had been a missed family call. Today she was standing accused of murder.
Shreya's Mother: (turning suspicious) "Aur raat bhar thi kahan tum? Maine landline pe sau baar phone kiya, koi jawab nahi. Lisa se poocha, usne bataya raat bhar ghar hi nahi aayi tum. Siddharth ko bhi phone kiya — usne bhi kaha tumhare saath nahi hai wo."
This wasn't an interrogation anymore — it was a mother, hundreds of kilometres away, trying to piece her daughter's shattered world back together with whatever scraps she could get.
Shreya's Mother: (disappointment creeping in) "Shreya, humare jaate hi tum itni careless kaise ho jaati ho? Hum hamesha nahi rahenge tumhare saath. Ab bhi apna khayal rakhna nahi seekhogi?"
The irony wasn't lost on her — a trained officer who protected the city, unable to protect herself.
Shreya's Mother: (frustration boiling over) "Ek call nahi kar sakti thi? Ek text hi kar deti! Tumhara ye attitude bardaasht nahi hota mera."
That one word — attitude — cut deeper than anything DCP had said all morning.
Shreya's Mother: (softening slightly) "Achha ye bata, abhi kahan hai tu, aur breakfast kiya ki nahi?"
The ordinary question — so mundane, so entirely her mother — broke something in her that the interrogation hadn't managed to touch.
Shreya's Mother: (concern rising at the silence) "Hello Shreya? Sun rahi hai kya main keh rahi hun? Hello... hello..."
Shreya had gone completely still, every muscle fighting the sob threatening to break loose. Poorvi's hand found her back, quiet and steady.
Shreya: (barely a whisper) "Hello Mom... sorry, aage se aisa nahi hoga... maine... maine breakfast kar liya hai."
The lie tasted like ash. She couldn't remember the last time food hadn't turned to nothing in her mouth.
Shreya: (struggling) "Mom, main thodi busy hun abhi... baad mein call karti hun."
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Cid Vs The Eye
FanfictionImagine a world where trust is everything, where loyalty is the foundation of every relationship. Now, what if the one person you believed in turns out to be the very one who shatters that trust? This story is about a woman who was once CID's finest...
