The main gate creaked open, revealing a woman stepping out into the humid night. The iron gate clanged shut behind her with a finality that made Arjun glance up from his phone.
"What happened? Why was Bunny crying? Everything okay?" Arjun asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
"Yes, all good. Just a bad dream. You know how kids are," Isha replied, offering a small smile before brushing past him toward the garden, where she took her seat with a quiet sigh.
Bal Kishan Society's garden was strangely alive that night. Every family that stayed up late had gathered outside—some sitting in their tiny fenced lawns, some on the common benches beneath the flickering garden lights. An uneasy energy buzzed in the air, as if the earth itself knew what had happened just an hour ago.
The police van and ambulance had only left minutes before. Whispers about the dead body spread like wildfire. Parents, cautious and tense, had hurried their young children and teenagers back to bed, locking the doors behind them. But the adults—curious, worried—remained outside, caught between fear and speculation.
Chairman Mr. Shyamlal and Security Officer Suraj Singh Rawat had gone with the police to identify the body. Was it someone from the society? Or a stranger? No one knew.
"Tea? Coffee?" came a soft, familiar voice.
Mrs. Sujata Mehta strolled between the scattered groups, a large tray balanced gracefully on her hip. Her warm smile lit up the dark garden as she offered steaming cups to the residents.
"Coffee for me," Arjun said with a sigh.
Sujata nodded, handing him a cup. She was the society's favorite aunty—forty-five, chatty, cheerful, with her own cooking channel on social media where she uploaded recipes daily. She loved feeding people more than anything.
She reached Nandini and smiled. "Tea or coffee, beta?"
Nandini looked up, startled from her thoughts. The polite smile on her face didn't quite reach her eyes.
"For staying awake, coffee is best... though tonight, sleep has abandoned everyone. No tea or coffee needed for that," Nandini thought bitterly.
Around her, the soft murmur of voices rose and fell. Laughter here, whispered worry there. The body in the garden was the secret no one could forget.
"Beta? Tea or coffee?" Sujata asked again.
Nandini hesitated, lost in her mind.
"Coffee for her," Isha chirped quickly, saving her friend from further awkwardness.
Sujata gave Isha a look, amused but unbothered, and moved on. Isha snatched a cup from the tray and handed it to Nandini.
"Earth to Nandu!" Isha teased gently. "You're spacing out again. Take the coffee. You need it more than anyone."
Nandini managed a smile, accepting the warm cup. Her thoughts, however, spiraled elsewhere.
I don't need coffee to stay awake. The ghosts of the past are doing that just fine.
The garden blurred as memories clawed at her heart. Her mother's harsh voice echoed in her mind: "Don't act sick. Get up. Work to do." Even at 102 degrees fever, Nandini had scrubbed floors while her mother planned temple donations. Her little sister's demands. Her brother's endless tantrums. Responsibility had been forced on her like iron shackles since she was twelve.
"Strong girls work hard. No crying. No weakness."Her mother's mantra. No love, only duty.
"Hey… are you okay?" Isha's voice broke through the haze.
Nandini blinked away the prick of tears and forced a laugh. "Yeah… just tired."
"Come on," Isha grinned. "Don't ruin my hard work. You know how long I watched beauty bloggers to get your makeup right? TWO HOURS! I deserve a trophy!"
Nandini laughed softly.
"And you know what? Next time I'll practice on my husband. Let's see him complain about face masks and eye shadow!" Isha continued dramatically, making Nandini chuckle for real.
The mood lightened as Isha teased and fussed over her. For a moment, the horror of the night faded.
Suddenly—
"OUCH! Ouch ouch!" a shrill voice broke the calm.
All heads turned.
A girl near the corner bench was hopping frantically, smacking her clothes.
"What happened?" someone called.
"Ouch! Something's inside my shirt!" she shrieked.
"Maybe an insect," another woman guessed.
"Check quickly!" someone else urged.
Ruhan Singh Chauhan appeared by her side in an instant. "Hold on. Don't panic," he said gently, reaching to help. But before he could, a tiny bat flew out of her t-shirt, squeaking angrily.
Gasps and nervous laughter rippled across the garden.
"Oh my God! A bat! No wonder she was dancing like that!" an auntie exclaimed.
"Are you okay?" Ruhan asked, scanning her for bites. "You should get checked. If it scratched you, you'll need shots."
A concerned neighbor led the girl away, muttering about hospital visits and tetanus.
"How kind you are, handsome," purred Lilly D'Costa, stepping up beside Ruhan, flipping her hair.
Ruhan barely spared her a glance and moved past her without a word, heading toward another group.
Payal Soni, the sweet college girl everyone liked, waved him over. "Ruhan, you're amazing. Come, sit with us!"
Ruhan started to walk toward her when—
A hand shot up.
Nandini.
He paused, startled. Everyone watched. What was she doing?
But she simply brushed her pajama leg, swatting at imaginary mosquitoes.
"Too many mosquitoes. Can't sit quietly for a minute," she said flatly.
Ruhan relaxed and smiled.
"Ruhan, what happened?" Payal asked, confused.
"Nothing," he said with a shrug, finally sitting beside her.
Nandini's voice rang out clearly. "Shameless creatures—these mosquitoes. A girl sits alone and they rush to meet her."
A cough burst from Ruhan—half amusement, half embarrassment. He looked away quickly, covering a laugh. Lilly smirked openly, biting back giggles.
"Why are you laughing?" Isha asked Lilly curiously.
"Nothing… just remembered an old joke," Lilly lied, grinning.
But Ruhan knew why she laughed. She'd been on the balcony that day—the day Nandini kicked him there in a misunderstanding. Lilly had seen it all. The memory still made him wince.
"And you, Nandu! What's with this mosquito drama?" Isha scolded lightly.
But Nandini smiled knowingly, sipping her coffee. "I have my reasons."
For a moment, laughter swept the garden. The fear of the dead body faded, replaced by teasing and smiles.
But above them, the bats still circled. And somewhere in the shadows, secrets waited.
Ruhan glanced toward the gate, frowning slightly. Something still felt wrong.
The dead body. The police. The whispers.
Tonight wasn't over yet.
"I should check on the watchman," he murmured, standing.
"Handsome hero off on another mission?" Lilly teased.
Ruhan ignored her. His eyes met Nandini's for a fraction of a second.
A flicker of something passed between them. Unspoken. Mysterious.
She lowered her gaze, her fingers curling tightly around her coffee cup.
Don't get involved, she warned herself. You've had enough heroes in your life... and none stayed.
But the night was far from done. And so were its secrets.
As the moon drifted higher, the garden whispered of things yet to come.
Somewhere in the dark, another shadow stirred.
Suddenly, a sharp ringtone shattered the quiet murmur in the garden.
Tringg... Tringg...
The group of society members, seated comfortably with tea and light snacks, paused mid-sentence, glancing around to locate the source.
The phone fell silent… and then immediately began to ring again.
Tringg... Tringg...
"Deepak Sharma! For heaven's sake, pick up your phone!" one of the men chuckled, glancing towards him.
Deepak looked up, startled. "What? Is that mine?" he grinned sheepishly, setting his tea glass carefully on the table. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out the vibrating phone.
The screen lit up—two missed calls from Secretary Suraj Singh Rawat.
"Ahh... it's Suraj calling," Deepak mumbled, unlocking the phone. Before he could dial back, the phone buzzed again. This time, Suraj was calling directly.
Deepak swiped to answer. "Hello? Yes, Suraj, tell me..." His voice was casual—unprepared for what was coming.
The words on the other end froze him in place.
His eyes widened. His fingers gripped the phone tighter. The warmth drained from his face. His body stiffened as if rooted to the ground.
Without a word, Deepak suddenly stood up, his chair screeching back.
The casual chatter around him faded into silence. Every head turned towards him.
"Deepak ji... what happened? Is everything alright?" someone asked, their voice tinged with worry.
Deepak lifted his hand, gesturing silently for them to wait. His face was pale. His eyes flickered between confusion, disbelief, and fear as he listened intently to the phone.
The entire garden fell silent. Even the children playing near the swings seemed to sense the change and stopped.
A long moment passed.
Deepak finally ended the call but didn't move. He simply stood there, staring blankly at the screen in his hand, breathing heavily.
"Who was it, Deepak ji?" someone asked hesitantly.
He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. "It was... Secretary Suraj..."
"And? What did he say?" another voice prodded gently.
Deepak slowly sat down, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself.
He looked around at the expectant faces.
"The body that was found near Civil Lines... it's been identified," he said quietly.
A collective gasp rose from the group.
"Someone from outside... right?" a woman asked nervously.
Deepak shook his head. His gaze dropped to the table.
"No... It was someone from our society."
"General committee member Mr. Harshit Patel."
For a heartbeat, time stood still.
The name hit the gathering like a thunderclap.
"What?!!" gasped Mrs. Mehra, clutching her chest in shock. "No! That's impossible! Harshad ji was just here last evening! Laughing... joking with everyone... this can't be true!"
A buzz of whispered disbelief spread like wildfire.
"Such a kind man... always smiling," muttered Mr. Verma, shaking his head. "Why him?"
"God always takes the good ones first..." an elderly lady whispered bitterly. "The evil roam free for years... but those with pure hearts—gone too soon."
"Fate... it's all God's will," another elderly woman added quietly, her hands folded as if in prayer.
"But... Harshit Patel?" a young girl said, eyes wide with disbelief. "He was so full of life! He helped everyone... who would want to harm him?"
Whispers turned into urgent murmurs.
"Did anyone see him tonight?" whispered Ruhan to Isha.
"I didn't," she replied softly. "Maybe he stepped out for something... but why would he go towards Civil Lines at this hour?"
A deeper fear slowly crept into the group.
"Was it an accident?" someone asked.
"Murder...?" another voice suggested, barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," Deepak said, exhaling sharply. "Even Suraj doesn't know the full details. But from what he said... the police think it doesn't look like an accident."
A cold shiver ran through the crowd.
The street lights flickered slightly—as if even the night itself shuddered at the thought.
Nandini stared into the darkness, memories flooding her mind—Harshad's cheerful voice during the last committee meeting, his playful jokes with the kids near the gate, his warm greetings every morning.
Gone. Just like that.
Somewhere behind, someone quietly began to cry—her face hidden behind her dupatta. The sound was soft, but it made everyone's heart ache.
"Maybe a robbery?"
"Or suicide?"
"Or something worse...?"
Speculations swirled like heavy clouds overhead.
Trying to cut the tension, Mr. Sinha cracked a dry smile. "Looks like I should run for Secretary next time... no one's even giving me a missed call, let alone breaking such news."
A few nervous chuckles escaped—short, awkward. But the gloom quickly settled back.
Sujata Mehta stood up, wiping her eyes. "We must do something for him... a candle march... prayers... something in his honor. He deserves at least that."
The crowd murmured in agreement.
"But first... let's wait for the police report," Deepak reminded. "No assumptions... not yet."
Just then, a loud shriek cut through the stillness from behind the benches.
"Aaaahhh!"
Everyone turned in panic—only to find Mrs. Kaur had tripped on her dupatta and nearly fallen.
"Oh, for heaven's sake... not another drama tonight," Ruhan muttered under his breath.
Isha smirked. "This night is turning into a full-blown TV serial."
Laughter tried to creep back—but it couldn't fight the weight in the air.
As the garden quieted once again, Nandini whispered to no one in particular:
"But we still don't know... why Harshit had to die."
And with that, the question hung in the night like a ghost, unanswered.