Every dinner.
Every comforting message.
Every ride home after work.
Every “good morning” text.
Everything had been part of something else.
Something she didn’t understand.
Meera’s voice cracked.
— “Why?”
Ajay stared at her for several seconds before answering.
— “Because I was looking for someone exactly like you.”
A terrible silence filled the room.
Meera slowly stepped toward the door.
Ajay noticed immediately.
— “Relax. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have waited this long.”
But that didn’t calm her.
Not even slightly.
Her fingers quietly reached for her phone inside her purse.
Ajay noticed that too.
And then he said something that made her freeze completely.
— “Your brother Rohan finishes work at 10:30, right?”
Meera stopped breathing.
Ajay continued softly:
— “And your mother’s blood pressure medication gets delivered every second Thursday.”
Her phone slipped from her trembling fingers onto the carpet.
Ajay knew.
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:
