The studio was silent after the broadcast ended.
Samruddhi stood in the dressing room, her hands trembling. Her body was still. Her mind, storming.
The door creaked open.
It was Rohini Ma'am.
"You just invited war," she said, quietly.
Samruddhi didn't look at her. "They were coming anyway. At least now they won't come in the dark."
Rohini stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You're not trained for this."
"I wasn't trained to fall in love with a boy who speaks in codes and lies either," Samruddhi replied, voice tight, "but here we are."
Rohini sighed. "Do you think your father would have wanted this?"
That stopped her.
Samruddhi turned. "He died protecting a truth no one ever told me. So let me ask you—do you know what that truth was?"
Rohini froze.
And then whispered, "Come with me."
An hour later – An abandoned records room, Govandi Archives
The air reeked of mold and forgotten secrets.
Rohini led Samruddhi through rusted cabinets, stopping before a locked drawer.
She used an old key, worn from years of secrecy.
"This isn't legal," Rohini muttered. "But it's necessary."
Inside the drawer was a thin file.
Brown cover. Stamped in red: CASE SEA-037: DHIREN KHURANA
Samruddhi's hands shook as she opened it.
First page: A black-and-white photo of her father.
Younger. Smiling. In uniform.
She read the words underneath.
Intelligence Analyst – West Zone Operations – Embedded in SECTOR PHOENIX – Disappearance: Classified; Presumed Homicide.
Her breath hitched. "Homicide…?"
Rohini nodded.
"Your father wasn't just a logistics officer, Samru. He was part of a covert team monitoring illegal weapons trade connected to political families and former intelligence officers. Including—" she paused "—Vasundhara Kale."
Samruddhi dropped into the chair behind her.
"My dad died chasing her?"
Rohini's voice softened. "He died protecting you."
A photo fluttered out of the file.
It was of a small girl—maybe three years old.
Samruddhi.
In a man's arms. Her father.
Standing outside a courtroom.
A red mark circled the figure behind them.
Vasundhara.
Staring at them.
Eyes filled with contempt.
Elsewhere – Arpan's hideout
Arpan stared at the footage on loop.
Samruddhi, on national television, looking right into the camera.
Calling out the devil.
He hadn't expected her to go this far.
Vikram came in. "I traced the signal. Her broadcast flushed someone out. We tracked a satellite relay bounce."
"And?"
"It led to someone with access to your father's file, Arpan."
Arpan stood slowly. "Don't say it…"
Vikram nodded. "It's the same ghost. Vasundhara."
Arpan clenched his jaw. "Then she's not just my ghost. She's Samruddhi's too."
"She's not just targeting you anymore. She's cleaning up everything."
Later that night – Samruddhi's house
Samruddhi stared at her father's photo long into the night.
She traced the outline of his face.
So much she never knew.
So many truths buried because someone wanted them dead and gone.
A knock on her window.
She turned sharply.
It was Arpan.
Bruised. Shadow-eyed. But there.
She opened the latch. "What are you doing here?"
He stepped in. "You looked death in the eye on television. Thought I'd check in."
She gave him a tired smile. "Only you would flirt with murder jokes."
He didn't smile back.
"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.
"For disappearing. For lying. For dragging you into this."
She looked down. "You didn't drag me. I ran into it. Willingly."
Arpan sat beside her.
She handed him the file.
He flipped through it, and his face changed when he saw the courtroom photo.
"Wait…"
He pointed to the background.
"That building… it's not a courtroom."
Samruddhi frowned. "What?"
He stood. "It's the Directorate building. The one my father worked at."
Her eyes widened.
"Then your father and mine…"
"Were working the same case."
And then the pieces began to fall into place.
Two fathers.
Two deaths.
One name tying it all together—Vasundhara Kale.
Meanwhile – Unknown Location
Vasundhara watched the broadcast again.
Her reflection flickered in the screen.
Her lieutenant entered. "We've intercepted communications between the girl and the boy."
She turned. "They've connected the dots?"
He nodded. "Yes. They're getting close."
She didn't blink.
"Then it's time to end the game."
She opened a red folder.
On the top:
Operation: Kintsugi
Beneath it, photos of Arpan.
And Samruddhi.
She picked up Samruddhi's.
Stared at it.
Then said softly:
"You shouldn't have dared to remember me."
She snapped her fingers.
Her lieutenant nodded.
"We strike tomorrow. At dawn."
Back at Samruddhi's home
She and Arpan sat in silence.
Memories. Paper trails. Wounds older than they were.
She finally whispered, "I'm scared."
Arpan looked at her, voice almost breaking. "Me too."
"Not for me," she said. "For you. You've been dying quietly all your life. You don't even know it anymore."
He blinked.
"I just don't want to lose you," she whispered.
"You won't," he said.
Then softly added, "Even if I have to disappear to keep you safe."
"No."
She grabbed his hand. Fierce.
"You don't get to leave again. Not now."
Their eyes met.
For a moment, nothing else mattered.
Early Next Morning – Samruddhi's Home
The sound of glass shattering woke them both.
A flash grenade rolled into the hall.
Arpan dove across the room, throwing himself over Samruddhi as the flash detonated—blinding white and ringing in their ears.
Dark figures stormed in.
"GET DOWN!"
But Arpan was already moving.
Gun drawn.
Shots rang out.
One figure collapsed. Another ducked.
Samruddhi screamed, her ears still ringing.
Arpan turned.
And for one frozen second—
He saw her.
Vasundhara.
Standing in the hallway.
Dressed in black.
Smiling.
Holding something.
A detonator.
"No," Arpan whispered.
Vasundhara pressed the button.
The house exploded in a burst of flame.
To Be Continued…