Faruqui's PI Services stood on the outskirts of Pune, within reach of other nearby towns and mostly villages where he could provide gratis aid. It was a small three-story building complex rented solely to Jamal Iqbal Faruqui. The building had a weathered appearance, with its paint fading and the sign bearing the agency's name showing signs of wear. Despite its outward appearance, the office exuded an air of reliability and trustworthiness, drawing in clients seeking Faruqui's discreet and effective investigative services.

Ex-convicted Inspector, charged with first-degree bribery, Jamal Faruqui, started his agency six years ago with his name tarnished and only determination to strive. He assembled a dedicated team of employees to champion his achievements after he married his colleague and classmate, Mehum Begum, and both of them produced two twin girls, Farhana and Fareeha.

It was a hazardous early morning for him. He had plenty of appointments for the day, and his dearest wife, Mehum, was cranky enough to lash out at him for waking her up so early. Faruqui had a high tolerance for misbehaviours, especially for his beautiful wife, but it left a sour taste on his whole day.

He had to travel eighty kilometres to the village of Panchgani to meet a potential source to complete the task his new client had trusted him with. He would have never found himself in this town if it weren't for those nagging suspicions. It's been five long days since Priyanka's last visit, and five days since he embarked on his relentless investigation.

Digging out around Krishannt Sanghvi took only a day for him as he is a renowned name. He seemed clean with his present, but the missing girlfriends raised the stakes for the peccant. His past was also lifting the green flag. It was immaculate. Faruqui was ready to try again, making sure to end with surety. It was his duty now, to confirm that Priyanka was safe with the sycophant Sanghvi. He owed that much to his good friend Vijay Naik.

He had investigated enough similar cases with sufficient references. He was aware of his actions and their consequences. His job was risky, always asking for sacrifices, but that was the only job he could do to save his livelihood. Mehum was his only hope after being wrongly convicted, and she lived up to the expectations. The African-American woman won his heart at the very first sight. They had many complications during their relationship, but they ended up fulfilling their promises to always stay by each other's side.

Faruqui briskly looked at the cloudy sky, the sun disappearing behind the darkening billows. The thick-warm breeze turned fluent in pleasantly cold. The temperature was dropping sluggishly, and he predicted his destiny to come before the rainfall.

'Kasama' was barely visible on the map at the top of the hill station, with a population of only forty thousand. It was also a village where everyone knew everyone, so when the navigation refused to work satisfactorily, Faruqui had to ask only one pedestrian for directions. It was unsurprisingly accurate.

The temperature dropped dramatically at the entrance, and Faruqui tightened his brown jacket. Driving only fifteen minutes more, he stood outside the mediocre restaurant. It was dainty and nothing that Faruqui expected. He thought it was ugly but well-kept. He noticed the lack of customers through the picture windows at nine in the morning. He started predicting his chances for a successful interview. It'd be successful.

The door chimed upon entering, alerting the employees. Faruqui noticed two employees, or perhaps the owner. One behind the registrar and the other on a cleaning task. Both were girls. It was probably the only place in the village.

"Good morning, Sahib." The polite one behind the registrar smiled.

"Morning." Faruqui returned the smile. He looked at the empty booths and tables before looking at the menu in front of him. He ordered only a ginger tea. "Can you do me a favour?" he added, softly looking at the girl in her late teens.

"Sure."

"Can I talk to Ms. Tambe?"

"Which Tambe you are asking for?" The girl narrowed her eyes.

Faruqui thought for a moment. "Probably the oldest one."

The girl paused, looking behind the weird customer, at her older sister. The older one stopped with her task and approached the two awaiting stares. She was taller than the younger. "He's looking for Aai." The older sister had more stoic expressions, seeming less friendly than the younger. Though both the sisters were almost identical, the older one looked more mature as it was supposed to be. She closely studied the undercover detective.

"Who's asking?" Her speech almost sounded rough.

"I am Jamal Faruqui. A friend of your mother." He politely offered a smile which was ignored.

"You don't seem old enough to be a friend of my mother." she challenged.

Faruqui flattens and sighs, "A friend of a friend." It sounded stupid and desperate, but Faruqui really thought it would be easy to meet the source. He underestimated the women of the Tambe family, came unprepared, and disparaged the household for their background. He was suffering the consequences, calculating the chances of a successful interview; now, it was probably only fifty per cent.

"Which friend?"

He hesitated. "Sanghvi." Both the sisters instantly shared a look of disbelief, going noticed by Faruqui. They seemed more alert.

"Please wait here." The older one walked away as Faruqui nodded.

"I am still waiting for that tea."

________

Instead of waiting in the openness of the diner, Faruqui was asked to hang around in the store room. It was a dimly lit space with only a few fluorescent bulbs flickering intermittently above, casting eerie shadows on the greasy floor below. The rain softly pattered against the grimy picture windows that overlooked the narrow alley, adding a melancholic ambience to the scene as Faruqui carefully observed his surroundings.

Two wooden chairs were facing each other in the middle of the room solely surrounded by the unhygienic expired products, and Faruqui sat down on the left one, with his back to the window.

A knock called him. He watched a short woman with wide eyes enter the room. She was in her mid-fifties, fat and blond with a buff face structure, making her five years older than her age. She had a spastic gait walk, and it took time for her to reach in front of Jordan. With basic etiquette, Jordan moved forward to help the old lady, but she firmly refused. She resembled her daughters.

"Good Morning, Miss Tambe." She nodded in acknowledgement. Faruqui found the rudeness unnecessary. She coughed a little before looking straight at him. The brightness of the lights reflected on her face, revealing each inch of her wrinkly face. And Faruqui caught her looking over at him with judgment. Casteist old-hag!

"Who are you?"

"I am Jamal Faruqui. I know I should have taken your appointment beforehand, but I couldn't find your number, it was only the address. I am so sorry for disturbing you, Miss Tambe." He explained guiltily.

"Yes. It's okay. I'm not really busy these days. And yes, I changed my number after I left Pune. Are you also from there?"

"I am from there only."

"On what business are you visiting me?" She squinted her gaze.

Faruqui tapped nervously on his knees, debating internally upon his answer. "I had a few questions to ask you. I--"

"You are a friend of Krishant Sanghvi?" The lady abruptly interrupted.

"Yes." It was a prompt response.

"Childhood friend?"

"No, maam. Actually, I wouldn't call myself a friend. I am his therapist." He came unprepared, and so he had to lie. A story was already building in his head.

"Therapist?" he nodded, "I wonder then, what do you have to do with me?"

"You're Shivlika Tambe, right?" she shook her head in agreement, "Well, I am his therapist, but I would be honest with you. Krish has attended different therapists for many years now, but none seem to work for him. This year, he came to me, and I am concerned about what treatment would suit him."

"I understand. I supposed he told you something about me?" Her eyes softened and Faruqui sighed before nodding reluctantly. "He still calls you Shivilika Tai."

"I am on the research part right now, and I figured all the other therapists failed to treat Krish because they failed to understand him. It's not his fault, you see. Sometimes, patients don't want to open up easily. They find it hard to do so. I wouldn't take much of your time, Miss Tambe. I will come to the point."

"Sure."

"I want to know more about him from you. If you could please help me?"

"Oh! I love to help Krish. What do you want to know."

That was easy, Faruqui thought.

"Everything. I want to know about his upbringing. How was he when he was young? You were there with him during all of his childhood, right?"

"Yes, I have spent forty years serving the Sanghvis, Mr. Faruqui. I know most things. And please call me Tai." Shivlika beamed.

"Good, Tai. You have no contact with Krishant anymore, why?"

"I might have played a part in his upbringing, but he was never close to anyone. He was a really quiet kid growing up, always keeping to himself. I don't think I have much to give you, Mr. Faruqui. He was never a trouble."

"Just call me Faruqui, I don't mind." Shivlika nods, "I am only trying to understand Krishant more here. He grew up without his mother. Did that fact affect him?"

The Dark eyes in front of him narrowed in concentration before she sighed, "It affected him the most. He never saw his mother. Are you aware of Ruby?"

"Yes."

"She was the worst part of his teenagehood," she softly says, "Ruby ruined him the most."

"They were close?"

"Most. They were inseparable. Krish saw her as a friend, not even a stepmother, though Raman Sanghvi did not marry her to make her stepmother. He never cared for Krishant."

"Raman Sanghvi never cared for his son?"

"Not even once I had seen Raman taking care of Krish like a father. He was such a nasty father. I guess krishant's reason to see a therapist is probably his dead father. Did he tell you anything about it?"

Faruqui was silent momentarily before he shook his head. "You see he talks about people from his past and present but never expresses his feelings for them. So Krishant had an abusive relationship with his father?"

"Yeah. It was horrible to watch a father loathing his own child. His vile temper ruined everything, but I doubt if he ever talks about me?"

"He certainly does," An eerie smirk filled with scepticism questioned the detective, "Then? What happened?"

"Then what? Raman died."

"Yes, I am aware of it. Raman died in his sleep."

"What a good death he attained," she closes her eyes as if praying before continuing, "Is there anything else you want to know?"

"Umm..." Faruqui thought for a moment, "Do you know Camila Miller by any chance?"

"No. Never heard of the name before." she offers a smile. "I believe if you want to know if Krish was a troublemaker?"

"But you said he was a quiet kid."

"Most of the time, especially around Raman."

"And when Raman was not around?"

Miss Tambe did not express much through her actions, making it difficult for Faruqui to learn from her body language. She sat still as if moving was painful. "Let's just say he had a fair share of troublemaking childhood."

"What more can you give me on that?"

"That he equally loathed his father," Miss Tambe confessed, "Perhaps more than Raman"

"But he was scared of his father."

"He was scared of the consequences," Faruqui froze, "Raman that I knew didn't know the meaning of love, compassion or empathy, but Krish chose to ignore them. He had a passion for painting but didn't flinch at the blood he drenched from his loving cat." Faruqui swallows the lump in his throat.

"Are you saying," he collected his thoughts for a second, "That he did something unspeakable?"

"No, No. I claim no such thing," Miss Tambe retreated, "He did many good deeds too. He was a kid after all."

"That's it. Thank you for your time, Tai. It was nice meeting you." They both rose.

"Can I have your card in case I remember something important?" That'd be trouble. Faruqui gave her his personal card. "Give my good greetings to Krish I bet he's all grown up now."

"He is!"

Faruqui was somewhat disappointed by the information he received from such a long journey. He felt robbed. Meanwhile, Miss Tambe smirked at the retreating figure of Faruqui. The opportunity she was waiting for finally arrived at her door.

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