Shadow Case: Vishal Chronicles

The car ride to Hillstream International School was unusually quiet. Shilpa sat in the passenger seat, one leg crossed, her fingers tapping her notebook rhythmically.

Vishal drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding a banana he hadn't eaten yet.

"You think he'll talk?" she finally asked.

"No one talks when you ask them to," Vishal said. "But they always talk when they think they're smarter than you."

"Sounds like you're describing yourself."

"Exactly. Which is why I'll be the one doing the talking."

The school gates opened after a security check that took longer than expected. Vishal lied that he was an "education consultant doing a random safety audit." Shilpa pretended to be his assistant and, somehow, sold it better than he did.

The receptionist asked them to wait in the parent lounge — a brightly lit room with soft chairs, fruit bowls, and motivational quotes on the walls like "Children become what they see. Make sure they see the best in you."

Vishal read it and muttered, "Then half this city's in trouble."

Shilpa chuckled, but her eyes were scanning every person in the room. "There. That's him."

Manek — big frame, gold watch, custom tailored kurta. He looked like a man too comfortable in his skin, which usually meant he had plenty to hide underneath.

He was sitting with his daughter and her class teacher, nodding politely and pretending to listen.

Vishal watched for a moment. "This might get weird," he said.

Shilpa raised a brow. "How weird?"

"Pretend you're my wife."

"What?!"

Too late. Vishal was already striding across the room.

"Mr. Manek!" Vishal beamed, loud enough to turn heads. "Fancy meeting you here. Long time!"

Manek looked confused. "I'm sorry—?"

Vishal didn't wait. "This is my wife, Shruti." He placed a hand on Shilpa's shoulder. She smiled, painfully.

"We met once, remember?" Vishal said. "At the fundraiser last year?"

Manek's expression changed, just slightly. "Ah... yes. Yes, of course."

Vishal leaned in, lowered his voice. "We need to talk. Alone."

Manek's smile faded.

"There's a small tea stall just outside the school gate. Two minutes. If you say no... I'll start asking questions right here, in front of your daughter."

Manek hesitated, then nodded.

"I'll meet you outside," he said quietly.

At the tea stall, the mood was different. Manek didn't sit. He just stood, arms folded.

"I don't know what you think you've found," he began, "but I've had a rough week. My old friend died, and now people are sniffing around like I'm part of some—"

"Gun trade?" Vishal interrupted. "Or the drops you organized using the judge's study?"

Manek's eyes darkened. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know the judge had a flash drive with my name on it. I know you visited him two days before he died, and you argued. I saw it on video."

Manek's jaw tightened.

"Why'd you go to him?" Vishal asked. "Was it fear? Or guilt?"

Manek didn't answer.

Instead, he said, "Raghunandan made copies. He kept evidence on all of us. Just in case. He thought we needed watching. Like we were criminals."

"Were you?"

"Not when we started."

That silence again — heavy, like a curtain dropping between two old friends who had no idea how far apart they'd drifted.

"Listen," Manek said, glancing around. "I didn't kill him. But I wasn't surprised when he died. He had something planned. A leak. Some file he was going to send to a newspaper. He said it would bring all of us down — me, Rakesh, Vani…"

"What happened to Rakesh?"

Manek looked away. "I wish I knew. He called me the night before he vanished. Said he saw something on that drive. Something even he didn't know existed. Said he was scared."

He paused.

"And then… gone."

Vishal nodded slowly, eyes narrowing.

One name kept repeating.

Vani.

The principal.

The quiet one no one suspected.