The sky hung low with gray clouds as Arjun stepped out of the police headquarters, his mind still buzzing with the chilling revelation. The name echoed again and again in his ears: Ravindra Varma. Not just a name. A power. A reputation. A mask.
He opened the car door and slid inside, the leather seat cold against his back. With trembling fingers, he dialed Rohit. "Rohit," he said, voice steady but heart pounding, "meet me at Mr. Ravindra Varma's house. We need to confirm something."
Without waiting for a reply, he started the engine and pulled out of the HQ compound. The city lights passed in a blur. His thoughts raced faster.
Within half an hour, he reached the grand villa—Ravindra Varma's residence. The gates stood open as if expecting him. He stepped out, straightened his coat, and walked in. Each footstep echoed through the polished marble floor like a countdown.
Inside the main hall, Ravindra Varma sat on a luxurious velvet sofa. His posture spoke volumes—back resting lazily, one leg crossed over the other, arms spread wide along the armrests. He looked like a king in his court, lost in thought. The sound of approaching footsteps disturbed his trance. He looked up.
"Ah, officer," Ravindra said, his voice calm and deep. "Come in, please. Sit."
Arjun hesitated, studying the man. That same man who had sent a boy to kill. He sat, his expression unreadable but his heart was tight with anticipation.
He asked gently but firmly, "Is it true what I heard about you, sir?"
Ravindra's composed face changed. A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes. His posture shifted, hands folding together as if bracing for judgment.
Before he could speak, a soft thudding of footsteps echoed from the stairs. Ravindra's son—young, lean, and visibly confused—descended slowly. He came to stand by his father, his eyes silently asking for answers.
Ravindra looked at both of them, then finally spoke, his voice weighed down by shame.
"Yes," he said. "It's true. It was my doing. Because of my son."
His son took a step back in shock.
Ravindra continued, staring at the floor. "I didn't want my son marrying that girl. She was from a poor family. She was... not one of us. When I found out he loved her, I tried to reason with him. But he shouted at me. Raised his voice, stood up to me for the first time in his life—for her. That hurt me more than I could explain. It hurt my pride. My ego."
His voice cracked.
"I visited her house. Thought I'd speak to her parents. But they laughed it off. Treated me like I was just another angry father. I wanted to make them regret that. I wanted them to cry."
Ravindra's son's hands were shaking now. Arjun watched him closely, placing a hand on his shoulder, steadying him silently.
"I found out about the boy who had feelings for her—her one-sided lover. I tracked down his friend, got his number. Met the boy. Asked him to end it. He refused. I offered him money. He still refused. Then I said, 'She loves money, right? You can build her a golden grave.'"
He paused. "That... got to him. In a moment of anger, he accepted. I planned the whole thing. How to lure her. How to make it look like a random killing."
Silence gripped the room like a vice.
His son's eyes welled with tears. "You... did this... for me? Or for your ego?"
Ravindra looked at him, his face breaking down. "I thought it was for you. But now I realize it was just my pride. I couldn't bear to lose control. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just destroying you."
Just then, Rohit entered the house. He looked around, confused by the tension in the air.
Arjun stood, facing Ravindra.
"You should apologize to her parents, not just your son. You earned everything for him—comfort, respect, a life without pain. But you took away the one person who made him truly happy. Just because your pride was hurt."
Ravindra's son burst into tears, turning away. Ravindra stood slowly and said, "Arrest me. I don't want to look at him anymore. I've already failed him."
Arjun stared at him. "Why admit it now? Why break?"
Ravindra answered quietly, "I've seen my son smile all his life. But after Rani died, he was broken. That pain... it reminded me of my own loss. When I lost his mother. I lived through it. But he... he's fading. I couldn't bear it."
The room fell into deep silence.
Arjun took a deep breath and then asked one final question, "Why challenge me then? Why that sticker? That message on her?"
Ravindra gave a weak smile. "To distract you. I knew you'd come close. I thought I could stall you."
Arjun shook his head, as if disappointed but no longer surprised.
He walked toward Ravindra, pulled out the handcuffs slowly, and locked them around his wrists.
Turning to Ravindra's son, he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Rohit," he called, "stay with him. Call his friends. His family. Make sure he's not alone."
Rohit nodded, still processing everything.
Then, without another word, Arjun led Ravindra out. The once-mighty man walked slowly, each step heavier than the last, burdened by the weight of his own guilt.
And as they exited the house, the wind outside howled—not in rage, but in mourning. For what was lost. For what could've been saved. And for the man who had finally faced the truth.