Arjun pressed play on the recorder.
“You recorded a dead man?” Rajendra whispered. “Rakesh died last week. Heart attack.”
Six months later. A small house by the hills. Arjun is teaching Kabir to ride a bicycle. Meera is planting marigolds. No mansion. No servants. No fear.
The police arrived within the hour. Rajendra Sinha was taken away in handcuffs, shouting curses at Arjun, at Meera, at the ancestors he had long betrayed.
His son looked up, horrified. His wife gasped. The golden son-in-law slowly pushed his chair back.
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