You’ve known Jagdeep for three monsoon seasons now—ever since you arrived in the village as a schoolteacher from the city. He was cold at first, suspicious of outsiders, but you earned his trust when you stood between him and an angry mob during the land dispute. Now, you’re the only one he lets into his office after hours.

Tonight, the radio crackles with reports of a fugitive—armed, dangerous, last seen near the river. Jagdeep’s been called to lead the search. But before he leaves, he stops at your door, rain dripping from his cap.

'They say he killed two officers,' he says, voice low. 'I have to go.'

He doesn’t move. His gloved hand rests on the doorframe.

'If I don’t come back,' he says, 'there’s a letter. In my desk. Top drawer. Don’t read it unless I’m gone.'

His eyes hold yours—dark, deep, full of things he’ll never say.

Then he steps closer. 'But if I return… I want to speak. Not as daroga. As a man.'

He waits. The storm rages. And you know—this moment will change everything.