"Thank you, sir," Aman said to the police officer, his voice steady, yet his mind racing with the weight of the case.
The officer, his expression unreadable, glanced at him. "How's it going?"
"About to crack it," Aman replied, though his words carried a certain uncertainty, as if the case was hanging by a thread.
"Keep it up," the officer said with a reassuring pat on Aman's shoulder, though the gesture felt more like a gesture of hope than certainty.
Aman paused, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. "And I got this one..." He handed it to the officer, his fingers brushing the smooth surface of the device. "Examine it. The number that sent this message, its location… let's see if it leads us anywhere. Don't expect much, but sometimes, small things can open bigger doors."
"Okay..." The officer's voice was steady, but his eyes lingered on the phone for a moment longer, as if trying to read something in its blank screen.
As the officer walked away, Aman let out a slow breath, turning to face Aisha, who stood before him, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
"What were you whispering with that police officer?" she asked, her tone sharp, yet there was an undercurrent of concern. Her nose wrinkled, and there was an almost childlike skepticism in her gaze.
"He's skeptical about your story," Aman said, his voice quiet but firm. He hated that the officer doubted her, but he couldn't blame him—so many pieces didn't add up.
Aisha scoffed, her voice rising in frustration. "My entire house is in ruins. Does he really think this is just a story?" Her words were sharp, like a child throwing a tantrum, her lips pressed into a thin line of indignation.
Aman's heart tightened. It wasn't just the house—it was everything. He could feel the tension building between them, but he couldn't let it show. With a small, careful smile, he masked his emotions, his mind still consumed by the case. "Calm down... calm down, Aisha. I've talked to him. He understands now."
He paused, his thoughts momentarily drifting. The weight of the situation bore down on him. His eyes swept the room, lingering on the wreckage, the chaos that now seemed like it might never be cleared. "Shall we clean up here first?" he asked quietly, trying to focus on something simple, something they could control in the midst of everything that felt so out of their hands.
"Okay," Aisha said, her voice softer now, though the storm of emotions was still visible in her eyes. She nodded, resigned to the task ahead, as they both began to pick up the pieces.
It took nearly an hour and a half, but the place was finally restored, every corner of the room cleaned and returned to its former state, just like it had been before the chaos.
"Coffee," Aisha said softly, a tired smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she handed a steaming cup to Aman, who was slumped exhaustedly on the sofa.
"Thanks," Aman murmured, accepting the cup gratefully. He took a long sip, leaning back with a deep sigh of relief. Aisha settled across from him, her own cup in hand, and sipped it slowly, her gaze lingering on him for a moment.
"This is the second time," she remarked casually, her eyes gleaming with a quiet knowing.
"What?" Aman blinked, confused by her words.
"Cleaning this house. And this coffee," she said, her fingers lightly tapping the rim of her cup. Aman glanced at the coffee, then at her, realization dawning.
"I am so, so sorry, Aman," Aisha's voice softened, and a shadow of guilt crossed her face. "I know I've made things harder for you."
Aman smiled gently, shaking his head as if to dismiss her apology. "It's okay, Aisha. Really, it's okay," he said, his voice calm but reassuring. He could see the weight of her words, the way her eyes averted as she spoke. "Now, I guess we can officially say we're neighbors, right?"
"Maybe..." Aisha replied, a shy smile breaking through. Her eyes sparkled with a touch of humor, and her lips parted to reveal a fleeting sense of ease. Aman's heart fluttered with quiet happiness. For the first time, he felt like he was truly making progress, like he had found a small, secure place in her world.
The room fell silent again, and they sat in a comfortable, if somewhat heavy, stillness. The minutes stretched on, but the air between them was different now—more relaxed. Aman found himself lost in thought as he glanced at her, studying the way her features softened in contemplation. Her eyes, dark and deep, her nose delicate and perfect, and her lips, just slightly parted, as though she were caught between thoughts. He couldn't help but stare for a moment, caught in the quiet beauty of her presence.
"Aman," Aisha's voice broke through the stillness, and he immediately snapped his gaze back to hers, his heart skipping a beat. She was watching him intently now, her expression expectant.
"What if they come back?" she asked quietly, her voice filled with an edge of uncertainty.
Aman's heart sank slightly at the question, but he didn't let it show. "They're unlikely to return," he said, his voice firm, although there was an undercurrent of caution. "With nothing to go on from their end, they won't have anything to act on. No reason to come back."
He knew deep down that they would return—it was only a matter of time. But he couldn't bear the thought of Aisha worrying, not now. Not when things had just started to feel like they were moving forward.
"Okay then... I'll leave," Aman said, standing up as he glanced at the clock. The moment felt somehow final, as if something important was about to shift. He walked toward the door, but as his hand touched the handle, something made him pause. Without thinking, he turned back to face her.
"Aisha..." he called softly, his voice hesitant but sincere.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide, and for a moment, he saw that familiar uncertainty flicker in her expression.
"Are we friends now?" Aman asked, the question tumbling out before he could stop it.
Aisha blinked, as if taken aback by the suddenness of it, her lips parting as though searching for the right response. For a moment, she seemed lost in thought, like a child unsure of the answer to a question she hadn't been prepared for. Then, slowly, a smile curled at the corners of her mouth, soft and genuine. She tilted her head in acknowledgment, and in that simple gesture, something between them shifted, like a tiny seed of connection taking root.
Aman couldn't help but smile too. His heart swelled with warmth, a sense of joy rushing through him. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. He had earned her trust, gained a place in her life—however small it might be. And for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he was exactly where he was supposed to be.