A heavy silence filled the air.
No one spoke.
Raj's words still echoed in everyone's mind—
"…it didn't end with her."
Before anyone could react—
a firm voice broke the silence.
"That's enough."
Everyone turned.
A police officer stepped forward.
His expression was calm… but serious.
He looked at Raj.
"Stories won't solve this case."
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Some people stepped back.
Others watched nervously.
The officer continued—
"We've heard everything."
"But we don't believe in curses."
He paused… scanning the society.
"We believe in evidence."
A man from the crowd spoke hesitantly—
"But sir… everything he said… it's true…"
Another added—
"People really died in Flat No. 52…"
"And Lilly… she disappeared…"
The officer didn't react.
Instead, he said—
"Then we'll find out what really happened."
The silence didn't last long.
The police took control of the situation.
They began with the most important part—
Sara's body.
The officers carefully examined everything.
No signs of struggle.
No visible injuries.
No wounds.
No blood.
One of the officers frowned.
"No gunshot… no marks… nothing."
Another added quietly—
"Then how did she die?"
The question hung in the air.
Unanswered.
After that—
the police turned to the people of Gitanjali Society.
One by one,
they began taking statements.
"Did you see anything unusual?"
"Did you hear something?"
"Anyone suspicious?"
Most people gave the same answer—
Nothing.
When they questioned Mrs. Shikha,
she looked nervous.
"I was sleeping," she said.
"Then I heard a scream…"
Her voice trembled.
"My kids started crying… so I stayed inside. I didn't go out."
Next was Mrs. Himanshi.
"I don't know anything," she said quickly.
"I was asleep."
She hesitated for a moment, then added—
"My husband is out of town… he's been on a business trip for a week."
The officers noted everything.
Every word.
Every hesitation.
Then they turned to Raj.
He looked uneasy.
"It's the curse," he said firmly.
"That's what all of this is."
The officer stared at him.
Unimpressed.
Raj continued—
"So many people have died in Flat No. 52…
I didn't even dare to step out."
The officer wrote something down.
Then looked up.
"We're not here for stories," he said coldly.
"We're here for the truth."
The questioning continued.
But every answer led to the same thing—
nothing.
No witness.
No clue.
No explanation.
And yet—
someone had died.
The officer stepped back, looking at the building.
His eyes slowly moved toward Flat No. 52.
Something wasn't right.
As the questioning continued…
one of the officers noticed something unusual.
An old woman…
standing far away from the crowd.
Watching everything silently.
She wasn't whispering like the others.
She wasn't scared.
She was just… observing.
The officer walked towards her.
"Your name?" he asked.
The woman looked up slowly.
Her eyes were calm… but unsettling.
"Rajni."
The officer nodded.
"Did you see anything?"
"Do you know something about this case?"
For a moment—
she said nothing.
Just stared at him.
Then, in a low, steady voice, she spoke—
"This curse…"
A pause.
"…is worse than you think."
The officer frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Rajni didn't answer directly.
Instead, she looked toward Flat No. 52.
"Some mysteries…" she said slowly,
"…are not meant to be solved."
A cold silence followed.
The officer's expression hardened.
"We don't believe in curses," he said.
Rajni gave a faint smile.
Not amused.
Not scared.
Just… knowing.
"You will," she whispered.
And without saying another word—
she turned and walked away.
The officer stood there for a moment…
watching her leave.
For the first time since the investigation began—
a strange uneasiness crept in.
After hours of questioning…
the police had recorded everyone's statements.
But—
they found nothing useful.
No solid clue.
No clear suspect.
Just fear.
And silence.
The officer closed his notebook, slightly frustrated.
"There has to be something…" he muttered.
Just then—
a voice came from behind.
"Sir… I think I know something."
Everyone turned.
A young man stepped forward.
Nervous… but determined.
"Your name?" the officer asked.
"Kartik," he replied.
The officer nodded.
"Go on."
Kartik hesitated for a moment…
then said—
"Sara had a fight… two days before her death."
Murmurs spread instantly.
The officer's eyes narrowed.
"With whom?"
Kartik took a deep breath.
"With Kusha."
Silence.
Some people looked at each other.
Others avoided eye contact.
The officer wrote it down quickly.
"What kind of fight?" he asked.
Kartik swallowed.
"It was serious," he said.
"They were arguing loudly… almost everyone heard it."
The tension in the air thickened.
The officer looked up.
His voice calm… but firm—
"Call Kusha."
Because for the first time—
this didn't feel like a curse.
It felt like a case.
A few minutes later—
Kusha stepped forward.
Her face looked tense.
Her eyes avoiding everyone.
The officer looked at her.
"Where were you last night?"
Kusha replied quickly—
"I was at my friend's house… celebrating her birthday."
The officer noted it down.
Then looked up again.
"Then why did you fight with Sara?"
Kusha froze.
Silence.
Her fingers tightened.
Her breathing grew heavier.
But she said nothing.
The officer's tone turned sharper.
"Answer the question."
Still… silence.
People around began whispering.
The pressure increased.
Finally—
Kusha spoke.
Her voice low… but filled with frustration.
"We worked in the same company," she said.
"She was my senior."
A pause.
"She made sure I lost my job."
Murmurs spread instantly.
Kusha looked up, anger in her eyes.
"Two days ago… I found out it was because of her."
"She complained about me… and got me fired."
The officer watched her closely.
"So you fought with her."
Kusha nodded.
"Yes."
The air grew heavy.
The officer took a step closer.
His voice calm… but piercing—
"And after that?"
Kusha didn't answer immediately.
Her silence said more than her words.
Because now—
this wasn't just a mystery anymore.
It was personal.
The officer looked straight into Kusha's eyes.
His voice was calm… but direct.
"Are you behind all this?"
A sharp silence fell.
Kusha's expression changed instantly.
Fear… anger… disbelief.
"No," she said firmly.
"It wasn't me."
She took a step forward.
"You can check the cameras."
Her voice didn't shake this time.
"I didn't kill her."
The officer watched her carefully.
Trying to read every expression.
Every movement.
Then he nodded slightly.
"We will find out who is behind this."
He turned toward the crowd.
His voice now louder.
Clear. Commanding.
"Until then—"
A pause.
"No one in Gitanjali Society is allowed to leave."
Murmurs spread instantly.
Panic.
Fear.
Restlessness.
Some people protested—
"But sir—"
"We have work—"
But the officer cut them off.
"You will cooperate."
His eyes moved across every face.
Slowly. Carefully.
"Because until this case is solved…"
A brief silence.
"Every single one of you… is a suspect."
The crowd went completely silent.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
For the first time—
the fear wasn't just about the curse.
It was about each other.
Because now—
no one trusted anyone.
And somewhere in that silence…
the real culprit was still watching.