30 September 2024

7:03 a.m.

At around 6 a.m., the quietness of the early morning was broken by the soft click of the door as Aarushi left the apartment. She had received an emergency call and left with hurried apologies, promising to return later if needed. Kalyan barely noticed her departure, still reeling from the long night of grief and worry. Mridula had fallen into a restless sleep, clutching their daughter tightly, while Kalyan lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind spiralling with questions and fears.

It wasn't long after that, at 7 a.m., a soft knock on the door echoed through the quiet apartment. Kalyan opened it to find Gautham standing there, his face solemn but steady. Behind him was Poornima, carrying a tiffin carrier with the unmistakable scent of fresh breakfast.

"I know you haven't eaten," Poornima said softly, her voice full of warmth and concern. "I brought something. It's not much, but you both need to keep your strength up."

Kalyan stepped aside, letting them in. Gautham entered first, his eyes scanning the room with a practiced efficiency, taking in the details as he always did. Poornima moved past him, her focus on the emotional toll that had weighed down the household. She set the tiffin down on the kitchen counter, then turned to Kalyan.

"Is Mridula awake?" she asked gently.

Kalyan nodded, though his eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. "She's awake. Barely."

Poornima gave him a small, reassuring smile. "I'll help her eat. You too. You need it." She handed him a plate, and though he wasn't hungry, Kalyan knew she was right.

Soon after, Mridula joined them, her eyes swollen and red, her movements slow as she sat down next to Kalyan. The smell of food seemed to rouse her, though the weight of the previous night still hung heavily on her shoulders.

Though neither had much of an appetite, they both picked at the breakfast Poornima had brought. The warmth of the food provided some comfort, though it did little to ease the cold fear that still gripped their hearts.

Not long after, two officers arrived at the door. Gautham greeted them, stepping aside to allow them in. "What do you have?" he asked, his tone serious.

The taller of the two officers, Sub-Inspector Ravi, spoke first. "We've gone through several hours of CCTV footage from the nearby streets. Nothing definitive yet, but we've noticed a figure in the vicinity of the apartment between 9 p.m. and 10 p.m. The footage is still unclear, but it looks like they were carrying something—possibly the child. We're enhancing the footage now."

Gautham's eyes darkened slightly, but he remained calm. "Keep working on that. What about the forensics team?"

"They're still going over the nursery," Ravi said, glancing briefly at the taped-off room down the hallway. "They're being thorough, but so far, no signs of forced entry, no unusual prints. They're checking for trace substances now, but it's a slow process."

The other officer, Constable Vikram, stepped forward. "We'd like to sweep the house one more time, sir. Just to be sure. It's possible we missed something small during the initial search."

Gautham nodded, appreciating their diligence. "Do it. I want everything checked again, top to bottom."

The officers dispersed into the apartment, working quietly and methodically. Kalyan stood by the window, watching them move through his home, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling within him. Every minute that passed without answers felt like a hammer against his chest.

Around 10:30 a.m., just as Gautham was reviewing the latest notes from his team, a sudden call came from the kitchen. "Sir, you might want to see this."

Gautham and Kalyan exchanged a glance before heading toward the source of the voice. Constable Vikram was crouched near the gas cylinder roller in the kitchen, holding something between his gloved fingers. A small vial, barely noticeable, had rolled under the roller, almost hidden from view.

"What is it?" Gautham asked, stepping closer.

Vikram held it up carefully, examining it under the light. "It's a small vial, sir. I found it rolled under the gas cylinder roller, almost out of sight. It looks out of place."

Kalyan's stomach clenched as he leaned in, eyeing the vial with suspicion. "We don't keep anything like that in the house. What could it be?"

Gautham took a closer look, his sharp eyes narrowing. The vial was small, glass, and sealed tightly. There was no visible label, but something about its presence, hidden away under the cylinder, piqued his curiosity. He turned to Vikram.

"Bag it. We'll send it to the lab immediately for analysis. Whatever was inside could be important. Also run the fingerprint test on it too."

Vikram nodded and carefully placed the vial into an evidence bag, sealing it tightly before tucking it away. The find had shifted the energy in the room—everyone could feel it. This small, seemingly insignificant vial could hold the key to what had happened, or at the very least, lead them to new answers.

Kalyan's pulse quickened. "What do you think it is?"

Gautham didn't answer right away, his mind already racing through possibilities. It could be anything—a harmless object, something medicinal, or something more sinister. But one thing was clear: It didn't belong there.

"We'll know soon enough," Gautham said quietly. "But this could be the break we've been waiting for."

The officers continued their work as Gautham, now more focused than ever, made the call to have the vial sent to the forensics lab for urgent analysis. Kalyan stood nearby, his mind swirling with a hundred questions, but this was the first real lead they'd had since the nightmare began.

For the first time in hours, he allowed himself a sliver of hope—hope that this small, mysterious vial might hold the answers they needed to find his son.

*-*-*-*-*

1.23 p.m.

By midday, the heaviness of the morning had settled into the apartment like a thick fog, the silence punctuated only by the soft rustle of officers going about their investigation. The house was still, with only the faint hum of activity outside—neighbours whispering, the murmur of police radios, the occasional clang of evidence bags being zipped up.

At around 1 p.m., there was a knock on the door, followed by the familiar, comforting presence of Poornima stepping into the apartment. She carried another set of tiffin carriers, the smell of freshly cooked lunch wafting through the room. Kalyan's shoulders sagged with a mix of exhaustion and gratitude at the sight of her.

"Poornima," he said softly, walking up to her with tired eyes, "I don't know how to thank you for everything you've been doing. We wouldn't have managed without you."

Poornima gave him a small, kind smile, her eyes warm yet filled with sadness. "There's no need for thanks, Kalyan. We're family. You both need strength right now. This is the least I can do."

She turned her gaze toward Mridula, who sat on the sofa, her body slumped, looking frailer than ever. Her eyes were distant, as though she were somewhere far away, lost in the darkness of her thoughts. The weight of her missing son hung on her like a shroud.

With gentle hands, Poornima set the tiffin carriers down on the kitchen counter, then walked over to Mridula, her movements soft, deliberate. Sitting beside her, she reached out, taking Mridula's hand in her own.

"Come, Mridula," Poornima whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "You need to eat something. You need to keep your strength."

Mridula didn't respond at first, her gaze unfocused, her fingers clutching at the blanket draped over her lap. But Poornima was patient. She placed a hand on Mridula's cheek, gently turning her head until their eyes met.

"Look at me," Poornima said softly, her voice firm but loving. "You need to stay strong. For your daughter. And for your son, wherever he is. We will find him. But you need to eat. You need to keep going."

Tears welled up in Mridula's eyes, her lip quivering as she tried to find her voice. "I can't... I can't stop thinking about him, akka. I feel like I'm falling apart."

Poornima's heart ached for her. "I know, Mridu," she whispered, pulling her closer. "But you're not alone. We are all here for you, every step of the way. And you have to be ready when the time comes to bring him back. He needs his mother to be strong." She spoke like a woman who had gone through similar pain.

Poornima plated the dishes and gently began feeding Mridula, morsel by morsel, like a mother tending to her child. Each bite felt like a small act of resistance against the crushing despair that threatened to overwhelm them all.

Mridula allowed herself to be cared for, her tears falling quietly as she chewed slowly, the weight of Poornima's presence providing a small sliver of comfort amidst the storm raging inside her. Poornima's quiet strength anchored her, if only for this moment.

Kalyan watched from the other side of the room, his heart swelling with gratitude for Poornima's unwavering support. She had always been there for them, ever since they moved to Chennai, but in these last hours, she had been a pillar of strength for them all. Her presence felt like a balm to the unbearable grief that clung to every corner of the house.

Across from him, Gautham sat quietly, a plate of food in front of him. He had taken it upon himself to bring a plate to Kalyan as well, though neither of them had much of an appetite.

"You should eat," Gautham said, his tone quiet but firm, echoing his wife's words. "It's going to be a long day. You'll need your strength."

Kalyan sighed, running a hand over his face. He knew Gautham was right, but the idea of food seemed foreign to him now, as though his body had forgotten the need for it.

Still, he picked up the plate, forcing himself to eat, if only out of gratitude for the man sitting beside him. Gautham had been there since the beginning, steady and calm, guiding the investigation, but also offering Kalyan the silent support of a friend who knew how to navigate these moments of crisis.

"How long do you think it will take for the results to come back?" Kalyan asked after a few bites, his voice low, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Gautham glanced at his phone, checking for any updates. "It shouldn't be long now. The lab knows it's a priority. As soon as they have anything, we'll know."

Kalyan nodded, though the waiting was unbearable. Every second that passed without news felt like another thread unravelling from the fragile hope he clung to. He didn't know how much longer he could wait.

Gautham, sensing Kalyan's growing anxiety, placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're doing everything we can," he said quietly. "And we'll find him. One way or another, we will."

Kalyan swallowed hard, his emotions swirling just beneath the surface. "I don't know what I'll do if we don't, Gautham. I can't... I can't lose him."

"You won't," Gautham said, his voice firm. "We're not giving up. Not now. Not ever."

They sat in silence for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them like a storm cloud. Poornima continued to feed Mridula across the room, her soothing voice offering quiet words of comfort as she cared for her friend, as though the very act of nourishing her might heal some part of the wound that had ripped through their lives.

In the stillness of the apartment, the only sound was the ticking of the clock, marking the minutes as they waited for the call that would tell them what the vial contained—and whether it held the key to finding their missing son.

~ A planned abduction by one who has grudges or by one who is close? ~