That night…
everything felt unusually quiet.
Even inside the flats—
no one spoke.
Families sat together…
but the silence between them felt heavy.
Confusion.
Fear.
Doubt.
It was everywhere.
The next morning—
the police resumed their investigation.
They called Kusha again.
"Your friend's address," the officer said.
Kusha hesitated for a moment…
then gave it.
The team split into two groups.
One stayed back at Gitanjali Society—
searching for clues.
The other went to verify Kusha's alibi.
They reached the house.
The bell rang.
After a few seconds—
the door opened.
A young woman stood there.
She looked at the police…
and hesitated.
"Who are you?" she asked nervously.
"We're here for an investigation," the officer replied.
"What's your name?"
"Aditi."
The officer nodded.
"Where were you the night before yesterday?"
"At home," she said.
"Celebrating my birthday… with my friends."
The officer continued—
"Do you know Kusha?"
"Yes," she replied quickly.
"She's my friend."
"Was she here that night?"
A brief pause.
Then—
"Yes."
The officers exchanged a glance.
After a few more questions—
they stepped outside.
One of the officers said quietly—
"That means Kusha isn't the culprit."
But the senior investigator, Mr. Vivek, shook his head.
"No."
His voice was calm… but firm.
"We can't come to any conclusion yet."
He looked back at the house.
"Everyone is a suspect."
A pause.
"…even her."
They returned to Gitanjali Society.
The other team was already there—
searching every corner.
Looking for anything unusual.
Anything that didn't belong.
The atmosphere had changed.
Now it wasn't just fear of a curse.
It was fear of the truth.
Because somewhere—
between lies and alibis…
someone was hiding the truth.
Back in Gitanjali Society…
Mr. Vivek looked at his team.
"Did you find anything?"
One of the officers shook his head.
"No, sir. Nothing useful."
Vivek didn't react.
He simply nodded.
"Then we search again."
This time—
he joined them.
He moved through the house carefully.
Opening drawers.
Checking shelves.
Observing every small detail.
Every corner was searched.
Every item examined.
But still—
nothing.
No clue.
No evidence.
Just silence.
Then—
Vivek stepped into Sara's room.
It felt different.
More personal.
Books were everywhere.
On the table.
On the shelves.
Even beside the bed.
He looked around.
"She liked reading…" he murmured.
He started checking the books.
One by one.
Carefully.
Nothing.
Then—
in one of the books—
something slipped out.
An envelope.
Vivek picked it up slowly.
His eyes narrowed.
He opened it.
Empty.
He paused.
That didn't make sense.
Why would someone hide…
an empty envelope inside a book?
He turned it over again.
Checked inside once more.
Nothing.
But something about it—
felt wrong.
Very wrong.
Because sometimes—
the most important clue…
is what's missing.
Vivek didn't stop.
Not yet.
He searched the entire house again.
Every room.
Every corner.
Still—
nothing concrete.
Frustration slowly started building.
So he stepped outside.
Into Gitanjali Society.
His eyes scanned the surroundings.
Carefully.
Observing everything—
even the things others ignored.
Then—
something caught his attention.
The society dustbin.
He walked towards it.
One of the officers hesitated.
"Sir… that's just trash—"
Vivek didn't reply.
He bent down…
and started checking.
For a moment—
nothing.
Then—
he found something.
A diary.
It looked slightly worn.
But not old.
He picked it up.
Brushed off the dust.
His eyes went to the front page.
A name was written in beautiful handwriting—
Sara.
Vivek's expression changed.
"This belongs to her…"
The officers looked at each other.
Confused.
But one question remained—
Why would Sara's diary be in the dustbin?
Who threw it away?
And more importantly—
what was inside it… that someone wanted to hide?
Because whatever was written in that diary—
someone didn't want it to be found.
Vivek held the diary carefully.
He opened it.
Page by page—
he started reading.
Every detail.
Every line.
Every word.
Some pages had normal entries.
Daily thoughts.
Work pressure.
Random observations.
But a few lines…
felt different.
Unfinished.
Disturbing.
As if Sara wanted to say something—
but stopped.
Vivek's eyes narrowed.
He flipped to the last page.
And froze.
The page was torn.
Not removed carefully.
Ripped.
He stared at it for a few seconds.
Another clue.
But still—
no clear answer.
"Why would someone tear the last page?"
he murmured.
Because whatever was written there…
was important.
That night—
Vivek couldn't sleep.
His mind kept replaying everything.
Sara's death.
Ramesh.
Lilly.
The curse.
Nothing connected.
Yet—
everything felt linked.
He picked up the diary again.
Reading the same lines.
Searching for something he might have missed.
Then he leaned back…
eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"This is more complicated than I thought…"
he whispered.
His eyes darkened.
"And someone is trying very hard… to keep it that way."
Because the truth wasn't hidden in one place—
it was scattered… waiting to be put together.