The day wasn't hot, nor cold—just stuck in the kind of gentle limbo where the wind whispers but never howls, and the sky looks like it could nap with you. Kavir sat lazily by the office window, arms crossed behind his head, eyes half-open beneath the wild mess of his uncombed hair.
The detective office they lived and worked in wasn't glamorous—two cramped rooms, a shared bathroom, and a creaky fan that threatened to fall every second Tuesday. Outside, just beyond the glass door, the main road bustled with distant horns, idling rickshaws, and the occasional street dog trying to lead traffic.
Inside, calm reigned.
"Ratan," Kavir muttered, not moving from his chair, "we should visit the zoo sometime."
The man behind the desk looked up from his newspaper. Sixty-five, in simple cotton clothes that had never once met an iron, Ratan had the patience of a retired monk and the stubbornness of a stray bull.
"If no case comes in the next two hours," Ratan said with a smirk, "we'll lock up and go."
The silence that followed was peaceful. Kavir thought about tigers. Ratan thought about samosas.
An hour ticked by. Still no knock on the door.
Just as Kavir stood to grab his sandals, fate arrived—disguised in a school uniform.
The girl at the door looked no older than sixteen. Her bag hung off one shoulder, and her shoes had clearly survived more puddles than classes. But her eyes—those eyes were trembling.
Kavir's face was still hidden beneath his mop of hair, his expression unreadable.
Ratan sat up, setting the newspaper aside. "Come in, beta. Sit. What's the matter?"
The girl nodded and tiptoed in like the floor might betray her. She sat on the edge of the visitor chair as if she wasn't sure she belonged anywhere.
Kavir, quietly kicking the dusty sofa back into the side room, disappeared for a moment. He returned with a chilled glass of juice and placed it gently in front of her.
"Your name?" he asked, voice soft.
"Chhavi," she replied. It was barely a whisper, the name floating like dust in the still air.
Ratan leaned forward on his elbows. "What happened, Chhavi?"
She dug into her schoolbag, trembling fingers pulling out a photograph. It showed two smiling girls in school uniform, posing outside a local bakery.
But Ratan's eyes locked onto something behind them.
In the photo's background, mostly hidden behind a lamppost, stood a figure in a black hoodie. His face obscured, but his presence unmistakable. He was staring—directly at the girls.
Chhavi spoke fast now, her voice shaky. "I didn't even notice him when we took the photo. But after I saw this... I feel like someone's watching me all the time. When I go to school. When I go out. I feel it. He's there."
Ratan frowned. "Shouldn't you be telling your parents this?"
Chhavi's eyes filled. Her lower lip trembled.
"My mother barely convinced my father to let me study in the city. If he hears even a whisper of this, he'll pull me out. Send me back to the village. And once I'm eighteen... marriage."
She tried to hold back the tears, but they spilled anyway—slow, silent, as if she was afraid even her crying might cause trouble.
Ratan got up slowly and walked over to her. He gently placed his hand on her head.
Kavir, uncharacteristically tender, rubbed her back slowly. No words. Just calm, constant support.
When Chhavi calmed down, wiping her eyes with her sleeves, Ratan said, "Don't worry. From today, Kavir will be by your side. If this stalker shows up again, we'll find him."
He looked at the clock. "Shouldn't you get going? Don't want to be late for school."
Chhavi nodded, composed herself, and left with Kavir, who walked silently beside her until they reached the school gates.
After she entered, Kavir crossed the road and sat beside a small tea stall across from the school.
The chaiwala, cleaning glasses with a grimy towel, glanced at him. "Waiting for someone?"
Kavir nodded. "Seen anyone suspicious around here recently?"
The tea vendor scratched his beard. "Not really, babu. Though, no offense... you're probably the most suspicious-looking person around here. Can't even see your face."
Kavir gave a tired smile, leaned back, and waited.
Hours passed.
The school bell rang. Students poured out. Among them, Chhavi and her friend stepped onto the street. Kavir raised a thumb at her from across the road. She gave him a small, grateful smile and continued walking.
Kavir followed her at a distance, slow and cautious. She reached home without incident. Still, Kavir circled the block, looking for shadows that didn't belong.
Eventually, he found a plastic chair outside a general store opposite her house.
"Mind if I rest for ten minutes?" he asked the shopkeeper.
The man grunted. "Just don't snore."
Kavir sat, slouched...
…and instantly fell asleep.
When he opened his eyes again, the sky had dimmed, and the breeze now carried the early whispers of dusk.
The shopkeeper tapped him. "Bhai, your ten minutes turned into three hours. You okay?"
Kavir rubbed his face and stood up. Before he could reply, a shout came from down the lane.
It was Chhavi's friend—the same one from the photograph. She was running, panting, eyes wide.
"She's gone!" she cried. "She was walking with me and then—she just disappeared!"
Panic surged through Kavir. He didn't wait for another word.
He ran.
Through alleys, under broken fences, past shuttered stores. The city's forgotten corners. The places even streetlights refused to reach.
And there she was.
Behind a dumpster, pinned to the ground. Her clothes torn. Her mouth covered by a filthy hand. A man, maybe thirty-five, held a rusted knife to her throat.
Kavir's mind went blank. His body didn't.
He launched forward and slammed a heavy kick into the man's face.
The attacker stumbled backward.
Kavir didn't hesitate. He pulled Chhavi to her feet, shielding her with his own body, backing away.
The man growled, knife still in hand.
Kavir stepped forward again. And then—
He didn't stop.
Punches rained. Kicks landed. Over and over until the man's body slumped against the alley wall, bleeding and unconscious.
Kavir turned back to Chhavi. Her legs had given out, and she was trembling.
Without a word, Kavir removed his shirt and wrapped it around her shoulders. She clutched it, then him, crying so hard her body shook.
He held her close. One hand on her head, the other wrapped around her.
They stayed like that for nearly thirty minutes.
Eventually, her sobs subsided.
"I called Ratan," Kavir said softly. "He's bringing clothes."
When Ratan arrived, he didn't need explanation. He handed her the bundle of clothes and nodded toward the car.
"Go inside, beta. We'll finish things here."
After she got in, Kavir and Ratan tied up the attacker's hands and legs.
Then came the water.
The man sputtered awake, bruised, terrified.
Kavir crouched beside him, voice like frozen steel.
"So… should we give you to the police? Or…"
His next word was heavier than iron.
"…free you?"
The man's lips quivered. "Please… let me go. I swear, I'll never—never touch anyone again. I'll disappear. Please—"
Kavir stood slowly. He reached behind his head and tied his hair back.
For the first time, his face was fully visible—sharp features, eyes glowing like embers, expression unreadable.
"You want to be free?" he whispered. "Okay."
He picked up a nearby iron pipe.
CRACK.
The man dropped, unconscious once again, blood pooling at his head.
Kavir stood there, breathing hard. Behind him, the city carried on—unaware that tonight, a monster had been stopped.