24-09-2026, 05:49 PM
(This post was last modified: 24-09-2026, 05:51 PM by girrich9486. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
After two days
Nisha left the hospital with the image of Raghu’s damaged body still fixed in her mind. The hit-and-run had not been an accident. The speed, the clean escape, the lack of a readable plate—all of it pointed to a professional job meant to cripple her team’s most reliable man.
She called the remaining four members of her unit before she even reached the office.
“Pull every camera within two kilometres of the spot. Private shops, traffic signals, society gates—everything. I want the vehicle, the direction it went, and any face that shows.”
By midday the first fragments arrived.
A grainy traffic camera three hundred metres from the impact point caught a dark SUV with no front number plate. The driver wore a cap pulled low; the passenger side window was tinted almost black. The vehicle did not slow after the collision. It accelerated and turned into a service lane that fed toward the older industrial estate on the east side of the city.
One of her officers, a quiet woman named Meera, cross-checked the lane’s limited cameras. Two more sightings appeared. In the second, a partial side plate became visible for half a second under a street light—mud-smeared, but enough for the last three characters to be read. The number did not match any vehicle registered under ordinary civilian ownership. It belonged to a series of plates that had been flagged years earlier in connection with Tony’s logistics people and then gone quiet.
Nisha sat with the stills spread across her desk.
The same network her team had been cutting into had answered. Raghu had been chosen because he was clean, visible, and close to her. A message written in broken bones.
She added the new photographs to the board in her locked personal room—Tony, Biksh, Minister Pandey, and now the blurred shape of the SUV. Red thread linked the hit-and-run to the earlier arrests and to the pressure that had begun the moment her unit started biting into the real supply lines.
Arjun Malhotra, the rival detective from the central cell, called her that evening.
“I heard about your SI,” he said without greeting. “The vehicle profile matches a pattern we’ve seen in two other cities—same style of plate, same disappearance into industrial zones. Whoever ordered it is not local small-time. They have reach.”
Nisha did not waste words. “Share what you have on the plate series. Quietly.”
He paused only a second. “I’ll send the file. And Nisha—watch your own movement. They have already shown they are willing to put an officer in a coma.”
After the call she sat alone with the growing board. The public Minister who smiled for cameras and spoke of development sat at the centre of the web in her mind. Tony’s rage over the earlier arrests sat beside him. Biksh’s release still did not fit cleanly. And somewhere beyond the photographs,
After thinking some one wantedly doing this to me.. Now the enemy target Raghu. Beacusae he is so close to me and filler me.. Now next who Wil be target. And she made a call to other team mates and make them cautious..
And she thought any information will come so she ready to go Raghu home... Nisha spent the following days tightening the investigation around the hit-and-run, but the questions would not leave her. Raghu had been the one who first connected the early arrests to Biksh’s network. He had been steady, sincere, and close enough to her that the enemy had chosen him first—to weaken the team by removing its most reliable man. If they had already struck once, the next target was an open threat. She needed whatever fragment of memory he still held.
She went to his home in the late afternoon.
Priya opened the door, the one-year-old asleep in a small cradle near the window. The house smelled of simple cooking. Priya’s face looked older than it had in the hospital, but she managed a tired smile and stepped aside.
“Madam, come. Sit. I’ll make coffee.”
Nisha went straight to the bed where Raghu lay. Bandages still covered part of his head and the damaged arm and leg. His eyes were open. When he saw her he gave a small, clear nod of recognition.
She sat on the edge of the chair beside him and kept her voice low.
“Raghu. That day—anything different? Did you notice the SUV before it hit? Colour, direction, anything?”
He could not form words. The injuries had taken speech for now. But his eyes stayed on hers and he moved his head once, deliberately—yes.
“Who?” she asked. “Did you see a face? A plate? Anything that can help us?”
He tried. His mouth opened, the muscles in his neck tightened, but only a rough, broken sound came out. Frustration and pain crossed his face. He managed another small movement of the head, then closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted by the effort.
Priya returned with two cups. Nisha accepted one after a second offer and drank a little so the younger woman would not feel refused. The coffee was strong and sweet. They sat in silence for a short while, the only sounds the soft breathing of the child and the faint traffic outside.
When it was clear Raghu could give nothing more that day, Nisha stood. At the door she turned to Priya.
“I’m sorry this happened. It came because of the work we do. Because of me.”
Priya shook her head quickly. “Please, madam. Don’t say that. He knew the risks. He was proud to work with you.”
Nisha took a folded bundle of notes from her bag and pressed it into Priya’s hands.
“Keep this. Use it for whatever is needed—medicines, the child, anything. If you need more, or if anything feels wrong, call me. Day or night. I will come.”
She hesitated, then added, “Treat me like your sister. Not only as his senior.”
Priya’s eyes filled, but she nodded. “Okay… sister.”
They hugged briefly—two women holding the weight of a broken household between them. Nisha stepped out into the evening, the door closing softly behind her.
She did not know what other eyes were already watching the small house, or what further cost the people who had ordered the hit-and-run might yet decide to extract from the family she had just promised to protect. All she knew was that Raghu had been chosen first to make her weaker, and that the next move from the other side had not yet shown itself.
The investigation would continue. The board in her locked room still waited. And the debt she felt toward the man who could no longer speak, and toward the young wife now carrying everything alone, had only grown heavier..
But poor Nisha don't know what happens with Raghu beautiful wife. Priya is now take caring to her 1 year kid and as well as her husband Raghu.. She is so beautiful.. But Raghu is Nisha team mate.. So let's wait what they will do to Poor Priya...
....
Nisha left the hospital with the image of Raghu’s damaged body still fixed in her mind. The hit-and-run had not been an accident. The speed, the clean escape, the lack of a readable plate—all of it pointed to a professional job meant to cripple her team’s most reliable man.
She called the remaining four members of her unit before she even reached the office.
“Pull every camera within two kilometres of the spot. Private shops, traffic signals, society gates—everything. I want the vehicle, the direction it went, and any face that shows.”
By midday the first fragments arrived.
A grainy traffic camera three hundred metres from the impact point caught a dark SUV with no front number plate. The driver wore a cap pulled low; the passenger side window was tinted almost black. The vehicle did not slow after the collision. It accelerated and turned into a service lane that fed toward the older industrial estate on the east side of the city.
One of her officers, a quiet woman named Meera, cross-checked the lane’s limited cameras. Two more sightings appeared. In the second, a partial side plate became visible for half a second under a street light—mud-smeared, but enough for the last three characters to be read. The number did not match any vehicle registered under ordinary civilian ownership. It belonged to a series of plates that had been flagged years earlier in connection with Tony’s logistics people and then gone quiet.
Nisha sat with the stills spread across her desk.
The same network her team had been cutting into had answered. Raghu had been chosen because he was clean, visible, and close to her. A message written in broken bones.
She added the new photographs to the board in her locked personal room—Tony, Biksh, Minister Pandey, and now the blurred shape of the SUV. Red thread linked the hit-and-run to the earlier arrests and to the pressure that had begun the moment her unit started biting into the real supply lines.
Arjun Malhotra, the rival detective from the central cell, called her that evening.
“I heard about your SI,” he said without greeting. “The vehicle profile matches a pattern we’ve seen in two other cities—same style of plate, same disappearance into industrial zones. Whoever ordered it is not local small-time. They have reach.”
Nisha did not waste words. “Share what you have on the plate series. Quietly.”
He paused only a second. “I’ll send the file. And Nisha—watch your own movement. They have already shown they are willing to put an officer in a coma.”
After the call she sat alone with the growing board. The public Minister who smiled for cameras and spoke of development sat at the centre of the web in her mind. Tony’s rage over the earlier arrests sat beside him. Biksh’s release still did not fit cleanly. And somewhere beyond the photographs,
After thinking some one wantedly doing this to me.. Now the enemy target Raghu. Beacusae he is so close to me and filler me.. Now next who Wil be target. And she made a call to other team mates and make them cautious..
And she thought any information will come so she ready to go Raghu home... Nisha spent the following days tightening the investigation around the hit-and-run, but the questions would not leave her. Raghu had been the one who first connected the early arrests to Biksh’s network. He had been steady, sincere, and close enough to her that the enemy had chosen him first—to weaken the team by removing its most reliable man. If they had already struck once, the next target was an open threat. She needed whatever fragment of memory he still held.
She went to his home in the late afternoon.
Priya opened the door, the one-year-old asleep in a small cradle near the window. The house smelled of simple cooking. Priya’s face looked older than it had in the hospital, but she managed a tired smile and stepped aside.
“Madam, come. Sit. I’ll make coffee.”
Nisha went straight to the bed where Raghu lay. Bandages still covered part of his head and the damaged arm and leg. His eyes were open. When he saw her he gave a small, clear nod of recognition.
She sat on the edge of the chair beside him and kept her voice low.
“Raghu. That day—anything different? Did you notice the SUV before it hit? Colour, direction, anything?”
He could not form words. The injuries had taken speech for now. But his eyes stayed on hers and he moved his head once, deliberately—yes.
“Who?” she asked. “Did you see a face? A plate? Anything that can help us?”
He tried. His mouth opened, the muscles in his neck tightened, but only a rough, broken sound came out. Frustration and pain crossed his face. He managed another small movement of the head, then closed his eyes for a moment, exhausted by the effort.
Priya returned with two cups. Nisha accepted one after a second offer and drank a little so the younger woman would not feel refused. The coffee was strong and sweet. They sat in silence for a short while, the only sounds the soft breathing of the child and the faint traffic outside.
When it was clear Raghu could give nothing more that day, Nisha stood. At the door she turned to Priya.
“I’m sorry this happened. It came because of the work we do. Because of me.”
Priya shook her head quickly. “Please, madam. Don’t say that. He knew the risks. He was proud to work with you.”
Nisha took a folded bundle of notes from her bag and pressed it into Priya’s hands.
“Keep this. Use it for whatever is needed—medicines, the child, anything. If you need more, or if anything feels wrong, call me. Day or night. I will come.”
She hesitated, then added, “Treat me like your sister. Not only as his senior.”
Priya’s eyes filled, but she nodded. “Okay… sister.”
They hugged briefly—two women holding the weight of a broken household between them. Nisha stepped out into the evening, the door closing softly behind her.
She did not know what other eyes were already watching the small house, or what further cost the people who had ordered the hit-and-run might yet decide to extract from the family she had just promised to protect. All she knew was that Raghu had been chosen first to make her weaker, and that the next move from the other side had not yet shown itself.
The investigation would continue. The board in her locked room still waited. And the debt she felt toward the man who could no longer speak, and toward the young wife now carrying everything alone, had only grown heavier..
But poor Nisha don't know what happens with Raghu beautiful wife. Priya is now take caring to her 1 year kid and as well as her husband Raghu.. She is so beautiful.. But Raghu is Nisha team mate.. So let's wait what they will do to Poor Priya...
....
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