— “Who is she?”
Ajay’s jaw tightened.
— “My sister.”
Silence.
— “Her name was Kavya.”
He swallowed hard before continuing.
— “She trusted the wrong man.”
Meera didn’t speak.
Ajay stared at the photo like he had memorized every inch of it.
— “He pretended to love her. Promised marriage. Promised a future.”
His voice became colder with every sentence.
— “Then he filmed private moments without her knowledge.”
Meera felt sick.
Ajay continued:
— “When she tried to leave him, he blackmailed her.”
His hands clenched tightly.
— “Three weeks later, my sister jumped from the sixth floor of her college hostel.”
The room fell silent again.
Meera didn’t know what to say.
Ajay finally looked at her.
— “After she died, I found out something horrifying.”
He pushed the stack of photographs toward Meera.
They were pictures of different women.
Different ages.
Different cities.
Some smiling.
Some crying.
Some clearly unaware they were being photographed.
— “He never stopped.”
Meera whispered:
— “Who?”
Ajay answered with a voice so cold it barely sounded human anymore.
— “The man I’ve spent fourteen years trying to find.”
Meera stared at him, confused.
