The Truth Has a Face

My Cruel Love.

Yesterday, Disha's crime was caught not just in words—but in light, shadow, and video. But even as one truth closed, another door opened—the one Arman's heart waited at for years.

Arman slowly, in a deep, unnerving silence, reached for the phone placed on the small table in front of him. The entire room was still—only the subtle movement of his fingers across the phone screen could be seen. That silence felt like the calm before a storm.

After scrolling for a moment, Arman handed the phone to Abir, his voice firm and full of resolve:

"Play this video on the screen. Everyone needs to see it."

Abir took the phone, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and curiosity, and walked toward the two men stationed in the security room. Handing one of them the phone, he said:

"Play this on the main screen. Make sure everyone can see it."

Tension flooded the hall. The air was heavy, no one dared to speak. Even the sound of breathing felt loud in the silence. All eyes were locked onto the screen—waiting for what was about to be revealed.

Disha's heart pounded in her ears. Her chest felt hollow, like something dreadful was about to surface. Her limbs were growing cold with fear.

Maya stood silently in a corner, expressionless, eyes fixed on nothing. As if this moment wasn't real, just a nightmare she was drifting through.

Suddenly, the large screen lit up—and with it, reality came crashing in. A video played, not a work of fiction, but cold, undeniable truth. In it, Disha—wrapped in a scarf—was seen taking out two identical-looking files and placing them beside the ones on Maya's desk. Then, with precision, she examined the real files, swapped them with her own, and placed them back without the slightest deviation. Wrapping her scarf tighter, she clutched the real files to her chest and quietly exited the cabin.

Every movement had been captured with such clarity, there was no room for doubt. At one point, Disha's scarf slipped, fully revealing her face to the camera.

She had assumed the camera in Maya's cabin was off. So she hadn't bothered to hide herself. But she was wrong. The lights were on—and that made all the difference. The video Arman held was crystal clear: her face, her actions, the file swap—everything.

Everyone in the hall sat frozen, breath held, eyes locked on the screen. Many had already suspected Disha, but now that suspicion had become truth—etched in video.

There was no escape now. No excuse. No denial.

Disha's lips trembled, but no words came out. Her eyes were wide with terror. She knew—it was over.

Only Abir quietly wondered—where did that video come from? How had it been captured so precisely? But no one else seemed to care. Everyone was focused on one thing—what would Miss Disha do now?

The Night Before

That night, Maya had come to Arman's cabin carrying the real presentation files meant for the next morning. Arman wasn't there—he was in the washroom—and Abir was waiting for Maya downstairs. Without saying a word, Maya placed the files in the cabinet and silently left. Arman knew none of this.

When Arman returned from the washroom, he turned off all the lights and sat in his chair in the darkness, staring blankly at the window until his eyes closed.

Inside, he was burning.

Leaning back in his chair, his thoughts circled around one name—Little Mayaboti.

The girl he hadn't seen since the accident. The voice he never heard again. No new memories had been made with her, yet she haunted every breath.

Who was Mayaboti?

Would seeing her, just once, be enough to soothe this restless longing?

This unknown girl had become the center of his life. The fire inside him would only be extinguished when he could pull his little Mayaboti into his arms—just once.

Suddenly, something felt… off. Even with his eyes closed, he sensed it—the corridor lights had turned off.

Arman immediately sat up and looked through the glass door of his cabin. A shadowy figure moved silently toward Maya's cabin. Then, using a key, the figure entered.

Arman didn't make a sound, but his eyes blazed. He silently picked up the remote from the table and aimed it.

With a click, the heavy curtain separating the two glass-walled cabins rolled open.

The shadowy figure's face was revealed—Disha.

Her scarf-covered face, the files in her hands—everything was now visible.

Without hesitation, Arman began recording with his phone. Calm and precise, he documented every second of her betrayal.

Because Maya's cabin lights were on, the footage was crystal clear.

As soon as Disha left the cabin, Arman rose from his seat. He watched her shove the files under a door across the hallway and suddenly stopped—realizing she must have sensed someone approaching. Without confronting her, Arman returned to his seat, smirking.

The Next Morning – 8:00 AM

A serene, peaceful morning. The sunlight was soft, and the breeze gentle—just like the calm inside Arman's heart. His BMW rolled down the road, driven by his chauffeur. In the backseat, Arman's face glowed with quiet joy. Beside him sat Birat, who shared in that happiness.

Birat had given the driver the address. Last night, they had made plans—today, they would meet Maisha.

A dream long buried was finally coming true.

Arman's heart raced between belief and disbelief. Could this really be happening? After all the longing, all the pain—was he finally going to see his Little Mayaboti, alive, in front of him?

It felt like something out of a fairy tale.

As he thought of her, Maya's innocent face flashed in his mind—serene, pure, kind.

He remembered the day Disha's treachery was exposed in the office. Arman had burned with rage. He wanted her punished—not just fired, but erased from her career. Because what she did wasn't a mistake—it was malice.

Disha had broken down, sobbing. She confessed—her only reason was jealousy. She wanted Maya humiliated and kicked out, just to get her out of the picture.

But Maya—so full of compassion—even after what was done to her, couldn't be cruel. She pleaded with Arman not to punish Disha harshly.

Arman was torn. Justice demanded strict consequences. But Maya's gentle pleas, Disha's repeated apologies—they melted his resolve. In the end, Disha was expelled from the office, but nothing more.

Thinking about all this, a soft smile appeared on Arman's lips.

Today, he was finally going to see the face he cherished most—his Little Mayaboti.

Standing at the border between dreams and reality, with waves of emotion surging in his heart.

To be continued…