Chapter-21 The Journalist
697 Words
The rain hadn’t stopped by evening.
It drummed softly against the windows — steady, constant, like a heartbeat reminding them that time was moving. The family was gathered in the living room when Anika returned from a brief phone call on the balcony.
She wiped the rain from her sleeves and looked at them.
Anika: “He’ll meet us tonight.”
Riya blinked. “Tonight?”
Anika nodded.
Anika: “He said something like this can’t wait until morning.”
Suresh’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Suresh: “He knows what he’s stepping into, right?”
Anika hesitated — just a fraction.
Anika: “He knows enough. And he’s not scared of them.”
Aditya stood and grabbed his jacket.
Aditya: “Then we go.”
Meera stepped forward, stopping him gently.
Her voice was soft — but firm.
Meera: “No. You all go together. No one walks alone anymore.”
Aditya met her eyes.
He nodded.
---
The Café
The café was tucked into a quiet lane — dim lights, warm glow, old film posters on the walls. The rain outside painted the windows in watery streaks.
A man sat alone in the corner. Mid-30s. Simple shirt. No watch. Tired eyes — not from lack of sleep, but from seeing too much.
Arav Sen. Investigative Journalist.
He stood when they approached.
Arav: “You must be Rajiv’s family.”
His voice held respect. Not pity.
That mattered.
They sat.
No greetings.
No small talk.
Aditya placed the USB on the table.
Arav didn’t touch it.
Instead, he looked at each one of them — studying their faces, weighing their resolve.
Arav: “If I publish this, the story won’t stay a story. It will become a war. They will deny it at first. Then they will attack. Your names will be everywhere. Your privacy will disappear. Your safety will be questioned. Your father’s memory will be twisted. You will need to stand together. Fully. Completely. No hesitation.”
No one looked away.
Not even Meera.
Riya: “We’ve already lost our father. We won’t lose the truth.”
Arav’s expression softened — slightly.
He reached for the USB.
But before he could pick it up — the café door opened.
A man stepped inside.
Expensive suit.
Polished shoes.
Cold smile.
Everyone recognized him instantly.
Prakash.
The rain behind him looked like a curtain closing.
He walked to the table — calm, confident — like he owned the room.
No one spoke.
He placed both hands on the back of a chair.
Prakash: “Leaving so suddenly last night was rude. I thought we should finish our conversation.”
Arav looked him up and down — unimpressed.
Arav: “I don’t believe this is your table.”
Prakash’s smile widened.
Prakash: “Everything in this city is my table.”
Riya felt heat rise in her chest.
Aditya’s jaw tightened.
Anika didn’t move — but her eyes sharpened.
Prakash leaned closer — casual, cruel.
Prakash: “You think you found something. You think evidence and emotion make you strong. But money runs this world. Influence runs this world. I run this world.”
Silence.
Then Meera spoke.
Her voice was so calm it startled even him.
Meera: “If you truly believed that, you wouldn’t be here.”
Prakash froze.
Only for a moment — but everyone saw it.
The first fracture.
Riya stood up slowly — eyes unwavering.
Riya: “You’re sweating.”
Prakash’s fingers twitched.
Aditya rose too — tall, steady, unafraid.
Aditya: “You didn’t come to threaten us. You came to check if we really have the proof.”
Silence.
Prakash didn’t deny it.
He simply stepped back — mask slipping just slightly — before pulling it back on.
Prakash: “You are inviting destruction.”
Anika’s voice was cool, sharp.
Anika: “No. We are inviting truth.”
Prakash’s eyes darkened.
He turned and walked out.
The rain swallowed him whole.
---
Arav picked up the USB.
He slid it into his jacket pocket.
Arav: “Then it begins.”
No one spoke on the drive home.
The rain continued.
Soft.
Steady.
Unbroken.
Like a drum before battle.
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End of Chapter 21
- Writer
