"Even if I believe your story, do you think they will, Aisha?" Agent Arun leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on her.
Aisha hesitated, her hands trembling slightly. "I... I don't know, sir. I don't know anything beyond this."
Arun leaned forward, his tone firm. "What do you know about Rahul?"
"Rahul... he's from some town in Gujarat," she began, her voice shaking but steadying as she spoke. "He was a scientist. He worked at the Science Research Center here. That's why I'm saying this, sir. Rahul could never be a terrorist. He was a genuine person."
"A scientist, huh?" Arun raised an eyebrow. "And what else do you know about him?"
"Nothing more, sir," Aisha admitted, her voice dropping. "We didn't have that much time together."
Arun smirked, tapping his pen against the table. "Three months, Aisha. That's all it was. And yet, you're here vouching for him like you've known him your whole life. Tell me, how can you be so sure he was a 'good person'?"
"I just know, sir," she pleaded, her eyes glistening. "You have to believe me. Rahul wouldn't hurt anyone. I'm sure of it."
Arun leaned back again, his expression unreadable. "Alright. Then answer this—where are the items he handed over to you?"
Aisha's eyes widened. "Items? He didn't give me anything, sir!" She raised her hands defensively, her voice rising. "I swear!"
Arun's voice grew colder. "Don't make this harder than it already is, Aisha. I'm trying to help you. Do you really think anyone else here will bother to ask you questions this politely?"
Aisha glanced around nervously. The English officers in the corner whispered amongst themselves, their eyes occasionally darting toward her. Her heart raced.
"Sir," she said, her voice breaking, "I'm telling the truth. I swear on my mother, on God Almighty. Rahul didn't give me anything. Please believe me!"
There was a pause. Then the door opened, and an officer stepped in. "Officer Arun," he called, gesturing for him to come over.
"Yes," Arun replied curtly, standing up. He gave Aisha a hard look before leaving the room.
Aisha's shoulders sagged as the door closed behind him. She looked around the room, feeling the walls close in on her. What have I gotten myself into? she thought, her chest tightening. She had read stories about love transforming lives, making them beautiful, magical. But this love… this love had become a storm, ripping her life apart.
The door creaked open again. Aisha looked up, startled. Arun walked in, his expression calm—too calm. His earlier intensity was gone, replaced by something almost unsettling.
"Aisha," he called softly.
She blinked at him, unsure of what to expect. "Yes, sir?"
"You can go now," he said, his voice even.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "I... I can go?" she stammered, rising from her seat.
Arun nodded. "Yes. You're free to leave."
"Thank you, sir," she said, her voice barely a whisper. She glanced nervously at the officers in the room before heading toward the door.
"But listen," Arun called out, stopping her in her tracks. She turned to face him.
"You will remain under police surveillance at all times," he said, his tone sharp once more. "Don't forget that. And your passport? You're not getting it back until your name is cleared. So don't try anything smart."
Aisha nodded slowly. "I understand, sir."
"Good," Arun replied, gesturing for her to leave.
Aisha turned and stepped out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind her, she exhaled sharply, her chest heaving. Her hands fumbled with her bag as she rummaged inside. Finally, she pulled out her inhaler, staring at it with shaking hands before pressing it to her mouth. She took a deep puff, feeling the cool relief wash over her.
Her breath steadied, but her heart still raced as she looked around. She pressed a hand to her chest, closed her eyes briefly, and then hurried out of the building, her steps quick and unsteady.
Savlon Club, Las Vegas
In the red glow inside the club, a man swiftly entered, cutting through the crowd. A middle-aged man, wearing a patched suit, stopped briefly with two or three young women, moving in rhythm to the music. A burning cigarette hung between his lips. A man who had come earlier whispered something in the ear of the patched-suited man. In the next moment, the man's face twisted with anger.
He shoved the women aside and walked inside. The man who had delivered the message followed him. As they walked, the noise in the club gradually faded. When they reached the last door, they entered a long corridor. They walked down the red-carpeted passageway until they reached a door at the end. The patched-suited man pushed the door open and called out.
"Where's the boss?"
Hearing the noise, a half-naked young man, who was getting dressed, pushed the young woman away and looked up. He gestured for them to come inside. He stood up and started buttoning his shirt. The two men entered the room, and the patched-suited man looked at the young woman, who had wrapped herself in a cloth to cover her nakedness.
"She is good. I wish i could swallow her," the man chuckled.
"Praveen Bhai, leave her. This is my private space," the man said as he buttoned his shirt and lifted his gaze toward the young woman. She quickly wrapped the cloth around her and stepped off the bed. Praveen watched her leave with a stern look.
"Come with me," the man said, flicking his shirt sleeve back and walking ahead. The two followed him into the room. As they walked deeper inside, the room seemed to grow larger. Finally, they reached a small door, which the man opened and entered, followed by the other two.
Inside the room was lavishly decorated, more luxurious than any five-star hotel room. At the far end of the room, a person sat facing away on a white sofa. His hands were stretched out to either side, with his head resting against the back of the chair. His eyes were completely shut. A Filipino woman was massaging his head with her fingers.
"Malik Bhai, Dr. Rahul, that bastard is dead," Praveen announced.
The man on the sofa stirred, and his hand rose to signal the Filipino woman to stop. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up abruptly.
Praveen, who had been staring at him, noted his appearance: nearing his fifties, completely bald with a shining, smooth head, his face marked with deep wrinkles and fierce lines. His eyes were sharp and cold. He wore a white suit.
"His death is good for us," Malik Bhai said.
"But the secrets he held, that's what we need."
"Where do you think he hid them?" Praveen asked.
"Roni," Malik Bhai called, glancing at the young man who had accompanied them. Roni nodded and immediately turned off the lights, turning on the projector.
On the wall, an image of Dr. Rahul Shiva appeared.
"Smart man…" Malik Bhai murmured as he climbed into a large chair in front of the screen.
"He knows how to play the game," he continued, rubbing his fingers together. "But when it came to evaluating us, he made a mistake." He suddenly burst out laughing. Praveen and the others exchanged uneasy glances.
While Malik Bhai laughed, he raised his hand toward Roni. Roni raised the remote and switched the screen. The image of Rahul changed to a photo of Aisha.
Malik Bhai stopped laughing, his demeanor instantly turning serious as he focused on the photo. Praveen and the others also looked intently at the screen.
"Aisha Siddique. His hidden weapon. She has what we need." Malik Bhai ground his teeth in frustration.
"How did this girl get involved?" Praveen asked. In response, Roni changed the image again to a smiling picture of Rahul and Aisha together.
"This girl is already in the police's custody, Bhai," Roni replied.
Malik Bhai made a sound of disapproval, like grinding his teeth.
"They can't do anything to her. They need evidence. What we need is her. She's the one who has the details of our plans. Once we have those, we can take care of her too." He paused and then pointed at the photo of Aisha, as if pulling a trigger, with a cruel smile on his face.
- - - - - - - - -
Fordham University.
Ayesha placed her books in the locker and walked through the corridor. On the faces of those she passed, there were expressions of suspicion, anger, and disgust. She tried to smile at her friends, but they looked at her with disdain. Many were staring at their phones, occasionally glancing up at her and whispering among themselves.
In the group, there were two American young men and one African man, who immediately turned off their phones and stood still when they saw her. Ayesha, ignoring them, quickened her pace. Before she could get further, they blocked her way.
"You bitch," one of the taller guys called out. Ayesha flinched in fear. She recognized the names: Louis, Steve, and Mark – the troublemakers from college.
She looked around for help, but all she saw were cold faces, and everyone seemed to enjoy the scene.
"You don't belong in this college. You don't belong in this country. You're a bloody criminal," Louis's voice was harsh.
"No, I'm not," Ayesha replied desperately.
"Yes, you are..." Louis played a video on his phone, showing Ayesha on the screen.
"Stop it, Louis," Ayesha gathered some courage and said. "The FBI has already released me because I'm innocent. You can't treat me like this."
"What will you do? Will you kill us?" Louis stepped forward, his voice mocking.
"Don't do this," Ayesha quickly stepped back.
"Come on, do whatever you want. You want to kill innocent people, right? Like your boyfriend," Mark said, waving his hand dramatically. As the three of them advanced towards her, Ayesha backed away in fear.
"She wants to hit us, come on, girl!" Louis laughed loudly, glancing at his companions and at her. Steve and Mark joined in the laughter.
"Ayesha Siddique," Louis and the others turned towards her. At that moment, Ayesha noticed a woman in her forties approaching them. She was dressed in a white shirt and a black skirt that reached her knees. The woman gave them a stern look and then turned to Ayesha.
"Ayesha, you have to meet the principal immediately."
Ayesha nodded and rushed ahead. The woman glared at Louis, and the three young men immediately scattered.
In front of the principal's office, Ayesha bowed her head in respect.
"What is this?" he pointed angrily at the phone screen.
"I'm innocent, sir," Ayesha's lips trembled. The principal kept yelling and blaming her. After a moment's pause, he looked at her with a thought.
"Ayesha, you don't have to come here until your name is cleared," Ayesha stared at him, shocked.
"But, sir?" she asked, but he shook his head, signaling that further arguments would be useless. She understood that he wouldn't reverse his decision. Without saying anything more, she took the paper from his desk and left the office with her head down.
'Order of Suspension,' Ayesha read the heading through blurred eyes. A rush of panic surged through her heart. Heavy thoughts raced in her mind, each one more overwhelming than the last.
It had taken her two years of struggle to get admission into this college. And that too, on merit. She had sold the property in her mother's name to make everything work. After struggling in the girls' dorm, she had managed to find a small house at a reasonable rent. She had begun working to make sure she could pay the rent without troubling her mother. Once she finished her studies, she hoped to find a job in the country and bring her mother to live with her. But now, it felt as though her dreams were shattered, as she stared at the piece of paper in her hand.
She walked on, her thoughts heavy, when she suddenly saw a girl coming towards her with enthusiasm.
"Shruti…" Ayesha called out, but Shruti did not respond and walked past her. Ayesha grabbed her arm to stop her. Turning to the English girl beside her, Ayesha smiled.
"Hi, Alice." Alice's face remained serious as she asked Shruti.
"Shruti, if you're going to stay with her, then you will also be expelled from this college. She is a suspect, and both of you are from the same country."
Those words pierced Ayesha's heart. What hurt more was that Shruti pushed her hand away and said to Alice,
"Alice... we're both from the same country, but the difference is, I don't sell my country."
"Shruti, do you think I would do something like that?" Ayesha stopped her again, asking desperately.
"Knock it off, Ayesha. Whether you're innocent or not, the FBI will decide. Until then, to everyone, you are just a suspect linked with terrorists. Don't ruin my life as well. From now on, we have no relationship. So stop bothering me."
Shruti shrugged her off and walked away with Alice, leaving Ayesha standing, her eyes filled with tears. Memories of their bond flooded her mind. The friendship that started back at the foreign studies institute, growing stronger as they entered the same college. The same paths, the same journey, the same goals.
It was there that Ayesha had met Alice. She thought about the days of happiness they shared, but now, those memories felt distant and painful. Tears began to spill from her eyes. She pressed her hand to her face and turned away, walking towards the locker.
She gathered her books and other belongings and placed them in her bag, closing the locker door behind her with a deep sigh. As she turned to leave, she was shocked to see Louis, Steve, and Mark staring at her from a distance. Taking a deep breath, Ayesha ignored them and walked past, but she could feel their presence following her.
Her footsteps quickened, but the realization of them following her made her nervous. She didn't dare turn around. Her body was trembling. She walked faster, and they followed, their footsteps matching her pace.
Ayesha clenched the bag tightly in her hands and pushed herself to move forward.
"Hey, catch her!" Louis's voice rang out. The three of them sprinted after her. Ayesha was ahead of them, but her breathing grew heavy as she struggled to keep up the pace.
When she glanced back, she saw Louis, Steve, and Mark gaining on her. Her heart raced in panic.
"There she is!" Mark shouted. Ayesha stopped, feeling them closing in on her.
"Please... leave me alone," Ayesha pleaded, gasping for air. But they moved forward.
Just then, a figure stepped in front of them. Ayesha looked up, startled. The man stood with his back to them, dressed in a black hoodie and matching tracksuit, with the hood pulled up over his head.
Louis, Steve, and Mark stared at him in confusion. Louis, regaining his composure, spoke.
"Come on, dude, this is none of your business. Leave her and go."
The man said nothing. Instead, he raised his right foot and stepped forward, his fists clenched, assuming a fighting stance.
"Okay, let's fight," Louis, Steve, and Mark also raised their hands, ready to strike.
The man, without a word, pulled out pepper spray from his pocket and sprayed it in the eyes of all three men. The man, taking advantage of the moment, grabbed her hand and ran down the street. After a few minutes, they ducked behind a large garbage container in an alleyway.
After a while, the three men ran past, searching for them. The man removed his hoodie, revealing his face. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Ayesha and looked at her.
Ayesha was still catching her breath, struggling to regain composure. She opened her bag, took out an inhaler, and used it to ease her breathing. Once she had calmed down, she closed her eyes in relief.
The man stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally, he patted her on the shoulder gently.
"Are you alright?"
Hearing his voice, Ayesha slowly opened her eyes and looked at him. Her gaze met his face, and she stood still, unsure of what to say next.