Jealous and Revenge Part -1

It was an early morning like any other. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft golden hue over the quiet city. Vikram sat at his desk in the police station, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a thick case file in the other. His eyes skimmed over the file, the remnants of the "Forest Woman" case still occupying his thoughts. He took a slow sip from his cup, relishing the brief moment of calm before the inevitable chaos of the day began.

Across the room, the station buzzed with low murmurs—officers exchanging notes, phones ringing with the occasional inquiry, but nothing out of the ordinary. Vikram found himself almost sinking into the routine, but that's when it happened.

The front doors of the station burst open, and a woman stumbled in, wailing. Her cries were loud and desperate, immediately cutting through the tranquil air of the station. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes wrinkled, as if she hadn't slept in days. The fear and anguish etched into her face were unmistakable.

"Help me! Please, help me!" the woman cried, collapsing to her knees, tears streaming down her face. She pounded the ground, her sobs choking her words. "He killed my boy! He killed him!"

Kiara, a young constable, rushed over, crouching beside the woman and gently helping her to her feet. "It's okay, ma'am. Please, stand up. Come, let's get you some water," she said softly, guiding her toward a chair.

But the woman wouldn't sit. She couldn't calm down. Her hands trembled as she clung to Kiara, her eyes wild with grief. "No, you don't understand. He's dead. My son is dead!"

This sudden outburst caught Vikram's attention. He set his cup down on the table, his eyes narrowing as he rose from his seat. He listened intently from across the room, still holding the case file in his hand, but now his focus was entirely on the woman's broken words.

Lala, one of the senior constables, approached the woman with a stern yet sympathetic expression. "Please, calm down. You need to explain what happened. Who are you talking about? Who killed your son?"

The woman, struggling to breathe through her sobs, tried to speak but kept choking on her words. Finally, after a deep, shaky breath, she managed to reply, "A man...a man in our village. He...he murdered my ten-year-old boy. I found him lying there...in the field...lifeless." Her voice cracked as she relived the horror. "You have to arrest him. You *have to*. Please!"

Vikram, now fully invested in the situation, walked over. His presence was calm but commanding, his eyes sharp as he took in the scene. "Who is this man?" he asked, his voice steady. "Do you know his name?"

The woman turned toward Vikram, her tear-streaked face filled with both fear and determination. "His name is Raghav. He lives in the village nearby. He's the one who did it. I know it. You have to go now and arrest him! Please!"

Vikram held her gaze for a moment, assessing the situation. Her grief was genuine—there was no question about that. But he needed more information, more clarity. "I understand this is difficult, but we need to make sure we get all the details. What happened exactly? How do you know it was him?"

The woman collapsed into the chair, her energy seemingly drained. Her voice was hoarse as she recounted the story. "My boy... he was playing in the fields, like he always does. I went to check on him... and... and he was just lying there. Not moving." She paused, shuddering as the memory overtook her. "I saw Raghav standing near the field, watching... just watching... and when he saw me, he ran."

Vikram frowned, his mind already processing the details. "Did anyone else see Raghav? Did anyone witness him near your son?"

The woman shook her head, her hands gripping the edges of her sari. "No, but I know it was him. Have a grudge feeling towards me, he once tried to harm me. He threatened us...said we'd regret crossing him. I swear he's the one who did this!"

Vikram glanced over at Lala, who had been taking notes quietly. They exchanged a look—one that spoke of the complications ahead. Without any witnesses, it would be a difficult case to navigate, but Vikram's instincts told him there was more to this than what appeared on the surface.

"Lala, send a team to the village," Vikram instructed. "Find this man, Raghav. Bring him in for questioning."

Lala nodded and immediately set the plan into motion, calling a few constables over to assemble a team. Vikram turned back to the grieving mother, his tone softening. "We'll look into this, ma'am. I promise you, we'll find out what happened."

The woman broke down again, her sobs filling the station once more. "Thank you... thank you," she whispered, though the pain in her eyes made it clear that no amount of reassurance could heal the wound of losing her child.

Vikram signaled to Kiara to take the woman home, to ensure she had support and wasn't left alone in her grief. "Kiara, make sure she gets home safely. Keep someone posted near her house. If Raghav is involved, we don't know if he's dangerous."

Kiara nodded, helping the woman to her feet and leading her out of the station gently. As they left, the air in the room grew tense. The officers moved with quiet efficiency, understanding that they were now dealing with more than just another routine day.

Vikram stood still for a moment, staring at the open door through which the woman had just exited. He could still hear her sobs echoing in his ears. Taking a deep breath, he returned to his desk, the case file from the "Forest Woman" still in his hand. But now, another case weighed heavy on his mind.

The murder of a child.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting an orange glow across the police station as Vikram leaned back in his chair, staring at the clock. The day had slipped through their fingers, and despite their best efforts, Raghav remained elusive. Vikram couldn't help but feel a gnawing frustration settling deep in his chest. They had scoured the village, spoken to neighbors, combed through possible hideouts—yet still, the man was nowhere to be found.

Lala entered the office with a heavy sigh. "No sign of him, sir. We had teams at all the usual spots—his house, his workplace, even questioned a few friends, but he's gone."

Vikram looked up from the file he had been reviewing, his brow furrowed. "And nothing from his wife?"

"Not a word," Lala replied, shaking his head. "She claims she hasn't seen him since the day of the murder."

Vikram's eyes narrowed. "He's a government teacher. He's got responsibilities. He can't just vanish forever."

Lala nodded. "That's what I thought. A man like him won't last long on the run."

Vikram tapped his fingers rhythmically against the desk, deep in thought. They had been chasing shadows for a week now, and every lead seemed to go cold the moment they tried to act on it. But there was one thing they had, a small piece of the puzzle: Raghav's picture. They had finally managed to dig out an old photograph of him from his personnel records. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"I think he'll slip up," Vikram said quietly, almost to himself. "A man like him, with a family, a job... he can't run forever."

Lala nodded but remained silent, knowing Vikram was piecing things together in his mind.

Days passed, and the case seemed to reach a standstill. The station buzzed with other cases, but Vikram's thoughts always returned to the murder of the young boy. He didn't believe in coincidences, and the way the grieving mother had pointed directly at Raghav still weighed on his mind.

Then, a week after the initial report, the call came.

It was a young constable named Ramesh, his voice crackling with excitement over the radio. "Sir, we've found him! We've spotted Raghav."

Vikram's pulse quickened. "Where?"

"At the zoo, sir. He was trying to blend in with the crowd, but we've got him surrounded."

Vikram didn't waste a second. "Don't lose him, Ramesh. We're on our way."

Within minutes, Vikram, Lala, and a small team of officers arrived at the scene. The zoo was bustling with families, couples, and school groups, all oblivious to the quiet arrest happening near the monkey enclosure. Raghav, dressed in plain clothes and a baseball cap, stood still as two officers cuffed him, his face blank, his eyes distant.

"Raghav," Vikram said, stepping forward. "You didn't think you could run forever, did you?"

Raghav didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the ground.

They escorted him back to the station, and as the sun set, casting long shadows across the police station yard, Vikram prepared for what was to come. Raghav was placed in a small, dimly lit interrogation room, the walls cold and sterile. He sat quietly, his hands resting on the metal table, his cuffs clinking faintly as he shifted in his seat.

Vikram stood outside the room, watching through the one-way glass. Lala stood beside him, his arms crossed.

"What's your gut telling you, sir?" Lala asked.

Vikram didn't answer immediately. His eyes were focused on Raghav, the man's calm demeanor unsettling him. "I don't know yet, Lala," Vikram finally said. "But we're about to find out."

He took a deep breath and entered the room, the door creaking slightly as it closed behind him. Vikram walked over to the table and sat down across from Raghav, his face calm but his eyes sharp.

"Raghav," Vikram began, his voice measured. "You've been on the run for a week. That's not the behavior of an innocent man. Why did you run?"

Raghav looked up slowly, his expression unreadable. "I had no choice."

"You had no choice?" Vikram echoed, leaning forward slightly. "Tell me why. Did you kill the boy?"

Raghav's face remained impassive. "I didn't kill him."

Vikram held his gaze, searching for any sign of a crack in the man's façade. "Then why did you run?"

Raghav's lips pressed into a thin line. "Because no one would believe me."

Vikram leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Then make me believe you. Tell me what happened."

Raghav looked down at his hands, his fingers twitching slightly. "I can't... not yet."

Vikram's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice calm. "You don't have much time, Raghav. Right now, you're the only suspect in the murder of a ten-year-old boy. If you didn't do it, then prove it. But if you keep quiet, I'll have no choice but to assume you're guilty."

Raghav's eyes flickered with something—fear, hesitation—but he remained silent.

Vikram stood up, his patience thinning. "We'll continue this later, then," he said, his tone firm. "But remember this, Raghav: the truth always comes out. Whether you're ready for it or not."

He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Lala was waiting outside, his eyes questioning.

"Well?" Lala asked.

Vikram shook his head. "He's holding something back. But we'll get it out of him. One way or another."

As they walked away from the interrogation room, the station grew quiet, the suspense hanging thick in the air. Something was hidden in Raghav's silence, and Vikram knew that the answers were just out of reach. But not for long.

Vikram can't able to sleep at night as he was unable to understand that why would someone be this cruel to involve child into their own conflicts. 'That's ridiculous' he says. He got a heavy stone on his shoulder hearing about a innocent child murder. Which really making him sad and worry. He decided to talk to Raghav tomorrow morning so he can hear it from his own mouth. He slept on his couch after mentally exhausted.