The Principal of Silence

Vani's school didn't look like the kind of place that kept secrets. Bright walls, floral murals, and tiny chairs that made even the idea of crime seem impossible.

But Vishal knew better.

He had always believed the more cheerful a place looked on the outside, the more likely it was hiding something serious inside. Like a cake filled with regret.

Shilpa adjusted her dupatta as they walked through the gate. "So what exactly are we looking for?"

"Anything," Vishal said, scanning the teachers chatting near the entrance. "Odd behavior. Nervous glances. Principal-turned-prisoner energy."

"You think she's guilty?"

"I don't know. But every time people ignore someone in a friend group, that someone usually knows everything."

Shilpa made a note of that in her book.

The receptionist greeted them politely. Vishal introduced himself as an "education blogger working on a piece about ethical leadership in modern schools."

"Oh," the receptionist smiled. "That sounds lovely."

"May we speak to the principal?"

"She's in a staff meeting, but it should end in ten minutes. Please wait in the reading room."

"Of course," Vishal nodded, walking away.

Then whispered to Shilpa, "We're not waiting ten minutes."

Five minutes later, Vishal and Shilpa were outside the staff meeting room, crouched beside a water cooler like badly disguised spies. Vishal tilted his head just enough to catch the voices through the half-closed door.

Vani's voice — calm, steady, teacher-like.

"…the issue with school transport safety is being handled. I've already spoken to the trustee board. But please, let's avoid panic among parents."

Another teacher replied, "Ma'am, the media might get involved again—"

"I'll take care of it. We don't need another scene like last month."

Then silence. Chairs moved. The meeting was ending.

Vishal grabbed Shilpa's arm and they ducked back into the corridor. "Let's not bump into her. I want to talk when she's not surrounded."

"You're acting like we're in a heist," Shilpa muttered.

"I watched three Ocean's movies. I feel qualified."

Later that day, they waited at a local bookstore café where Vani was known to visit every Thursday after school. Vishal had already checked her schedule weeks ago — part of a habit he called "calendar profiling." Creepy, but useful.

At 4:35 PM sharp, Vani entered. Alone. She ordered tea, took a novel off the shelf, and sat by the corner window — like someone who wanted to be left alone but enjoyed being seen.

Vishal walked over, polite smile on his face. "Excuse me, ma'am. I believe you're Vani, principal of Ananta Model School?"

She looked up, a little surprised. "Yes?"

"I'm Vishal. Detective."

He waited.

No flicker of recognition. No raised eyebrows.

She stared at him, then gently closed her book. "You're the one who used to be in the department. I've heard of you."

He sat across from her. "So you do know me."

"I know of you. You're the one who never follows protocol."

"Protocols are like leashes," Vishal said. "Sometimes you have to slip them off."

Vani smiled faintly. "Sounds like something Raghunandan would say."

They both paused.

"You were close to him?" Vishal asked.

She looked away. "He was our anchor. We weren't best friends, but... he was always the one who reminded the rest of us who we were. Especially when Manek got too loud, and Rakesh too ambitious."

"Did he ever tell you about… backups? Files?"

"No. But I knew he didn't trust us anymore. Especially after that evening in March."

Vishal leaned forward. "What happened?"

"We had a fight. All four of us. Rakesh said he needed favors from Manek's 'contacts.' Raghunandan snapped. Said we were becoming everything we once despised."

She looked down at her tea. "That was the last time we were in the same room together."

Outside, Vishal lit a cigarette. Just held it between his fingers. He didn't smoke anymore. But sometimes, he liked to pretend the smoke carried away the pieces he didn't want to think about.

"She's hiding something," Shilpa said, standing beside him.

"She's hiding a lot," Vishal replied.

"But is she dangerous?"

"I don't know," he said softly. "But right now, she's the only one acting like she hasn't done anything wrong. And that's exactly what worries me."