The rain had softened to a drizzle, but the clouds still loomed heavy, like a weight pressing on the city. A sense of urgency had taken over the team. Arjun stood at the center of it all — coordinating, watching, and holding his fury like a storm in his chest.
Screens buzzed with surveillance footage. Phones rang endlessly. Every station, every public square, every alley in the mission girl's neighborhood was being combed. Arjun had sent the suspect's screenshot everywhere. Teams on bikes. On foot. Even off-duty officers volunteered, drawn into the fire burning through the station.
They had only one face. One blurry photo. But they had hope.
And then — a knock.
A junior constable named Shyam rushed in, water dripping off his cap. He looked breathless, but his eyes held something more than exhaustion — recognition.
"Sir! That guy... from the photo. I think I've seen him!"
Arjun turned immediately, his focus burning into the constable.
"Where?"
"He used to clean windows at the Triveni Corporate Towers. I did a night shift nearby a few months ago and used to see him climbing around, washing glass like it was nothing. Quiet guy. Didn't talk to anyone."
Arjun nodded, grabbed his phone, and stepped outside to make the call. The drizzle kissed his face, cool against his growing heat.
"Get me the Triveni cleaning department," he said to Rohit, who was still inside. "Now."
---
Within the hour, Arjun was at the towers. The HR staff confirmed the man — a contract worker named Karthik. No last name.
"He's been working here on and off for years," the supervisor said. "Never caused trouble. Never talked. Always on time."
"Where is he now?"
"He stopped coming about eight days ago. No notice. Just disappeared."
"Any emergency contact?"
The supervisor shook his head. "Orphan, I think. No phone number either. But he had one friend. Lived in a rented room in the Old City."
That was all Arjun needed.
---
The old neighborhood smelled of wet dust and cracked walls. Small alleys. Clothes hanging above like prayer flags. The friend's home was on the second floor, stairs creaking under Arjun's weight as he climbed. Rohit was behind him, silent.
A boy opened the door, and behind him, a thin young man appeared — unshaved, eyes baggy, a hint of cigarette smoke clinging to the air.
"Karthik's friend?" Arjun asked.
The man nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm Sandeep."
Arjun showed the photo.
"Yes," Sandeep said, sighing. "That's him."
"Tell me everything. From the beginning."
Sandeep gestured for them to come inside. The room was cramped but clean. A small mattress, a steel plate on the floor, and posters of old rock bands on the wall. Rain pattered softly on the window.
Sandeep sat on the edge of the bed, chewing his lip. "He was... strange. But gentle. Never raised his voice. Never hit anyone. Laughed once a week, maybe. And yeah... he was in love."
"With the girl?"
"Yes," Sandeep nodded. "He told me about her many times. He would see her every day after his work. Said she had a powerful walk. Eyes full of stars, he'd say. I laughed at him. But he was serious."
"He proposed?"
"Six months ago. With a rose. Got rejected, obviously."
Arjun leaned forward. "Then?"
"He shut down," Sandeep said, his voice softer now. "Didn't talk much. Stopped showing up for work for a few days. One day... he just packed his stuff and left. No goodbye. Not even a message. Just gone."
"Where would he go?"
"He has no family. He grew up in an orphanage in Begumpet, left when he was 17. No village. No savings. His life was routine. He worked. Ate. Slept. And repeated. She was the first thing that ever made his eyes shine."
"Do you think he could hurt someone?"
Sandeep looked up, uncertain. "I didn't. But..."
Arjun noticed it. The hesitation.
"But what?"
Sandeep ran his hand through his hair. "I... I think I saw him again. About eight or nine days ago. Near our old house. The one he left. I called him. I swear I did. He looked right at me."
"And?"
"He ignored me. Just... looked through me like I didn't exist. Walked away. Like a ghost."
The room fell silent. Arjun's breath caught for a second.
"That was the day before the first murder," Rohit said quietly.
Arjun stood up, fists clenched.
"Give me the address of that old house."
Sandeep nodded, writing it down quickly. "But, sir... if you find him—"
"I'll talk," Arjun cut in. "Not hurt. Not until I know the truth."
As they left the house, the rain had stopped. The city was dripping, as if it had just wept. The clouds had started to break, faint beams of sunlight pushing through.
But for Arjun, things were only getting darker.
Somewhere in this city, a broken man walked with memories burning in his soul. And Arjun knew now — this wasn't just about love.
This was about something that had snapped.
And it was coming undone, piece by piece.