BETWEEN STRINGS AND SHADOWS

Chapter-2

The afternoon heat pressed down on the city, thick with dust and the smell of exhaust. Somewhere up ahead, a commotion had broken out—shouts, footsteps pounding against concrete. Arjun was in pursuit.

Indu stood just outside a juice stall with her friend Shruthi, casually sipping on a lime soda, even as the scene unfolded nearby. Two men darted across the narrow street, chased by a team of officers—Arjun at the front, his expression unreadable, focused.

He caught up quickly. One man stumbled; Arjun didn’t pause. He closed the gap, took him down with efficient, practiced ease. The second man didn’t get far—backup surrounded him within moments.

Shruthi raised an eyebrow as the crowd began to thin. “That’s, what, the third time this month you’ve run into him on a ‘story’?”

Indu didn’t answer right away. She was still watching Arjun as he dusted off his hands and straightened up, already giving instructions to his team.

Shruthi leaned closer. “When are you going to propose to him?”

Indu snorted into her drink. “What makes you think I’m planning to?”

“Come on,” Shruthi said. “You talk about him like he’s a thesis topic. You know his schedule better than his constables do.”

Indu shrugged. “He’s... interesting.”

“He’s emotionally constipated.”

“Probably.”

Shruthi grinned. “So what’s stopping you?”

Indu’s eyes lingered on Arjun as he turned briefly, scanning the street. Their eyes met for a second—just long enough to feel like something passed between them. Not a smile. Not a nod. But something quieter.

“I like the waiting,” Indu said softly, not taking her eyes off him. “He’s not ready yet. And I’m not in a hurry.”

Shruthi raised her eyebrows. “You’re unbelievable.”

Indu smiled faintly, finishing her drink. “No. Just patient.”

The jeep rattled along the uneven stretch of road leading back to the station, siren off now, the urgency behind them. Arjun sat in the front passenger seat, one arm resting on the open window, the wind tugging at the edge of his collar. His breathing had already returned to normal—like the chase hadn’t even happened.

Behind the wheel, Inspector Ravi glanced sideways, chewing on a piece of gum.

“She was there again,” Ravi said casually, as if commenting on the weather.

Arjun didn’t look at him. “Who?”

“You know who.” Ravi smirked. “Press girl. Indu.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds. Arjun didn’t respond, didn’t shift.

Ravi chuckled under his breath. “You think no one notices? She shows up at your cases like she’s got some sixth sense.”

“She’s a journalist. She follows stories,” Arjun said, keeping his voice even.

“She follows you, man.”

Still, no reaction. Just the steady hum of the road.

“You talk to her?” Ravi pressed, eyebrows raised.

“No.”

“Ever?”

A pause. Then, a quiet, clipped: “Once.”

Ravi laughed. “That’s it? You don’t think it’s a little... strange? The way she looks at you?”

“She’s curious.”

“You sound like a suspect at your own interrogation.”

Arjun finally glanced out the window, eyes fixed on something distant. “She asks the kind of questions people avoid.”

“Yeah,” Ravi nodded. “And you’re the kind of guy who avoids people.”

There was a beat of silence, broken only by the thud of a pothole.

Ravi grinned. “If you’re not careful, she’s going to break through whatever wall you’ve built.”

Arjun didn’t answer. But for the first time in a long while, his lips twitched—just slightly—into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but wasn’t indifference either.

Ravi didn’t miss it. “See? I knew there was something.”

Arjun leaned back, eyes still on the road ahead. “You think too much.”

And yet, long after the conversation drifted elsewhere, his thoughts stayed fixed—not on the chase, not on the case—but on the brief second of eye contact in the crowd, and the woman who always saw more than she was supposed to.

FLASHBACK

It was one of those late evenings at the station—quiet, but not calm. The kind of quiet that came after long hours and longer reports. Arjun had stepped out for a few minutes, leaving behind the clatter of keyboards and half-empty tea cups.

He didn’t expect to see anyone outside, but there she was.

Indu.

She was seated on the low wall near the front gate, legs crossed, a small notebook in her lap. Not writing—just flipping pages, absentmindedly.

Arjun slowed his steps, unsure if she’d noticed him.

“I was beginning to think you’d already left,” she said without turning.

He stopped a few feet away. “You shouldn’t be here.”

She glanced up, unfazed. “Neither should you.”

He didn’t respond. Just leaned against the gate’s iron bar, arms folded, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She closed her notebook with a soft snap. “Thought I’d follow up on that market case. The report was... vague.”

“I filed what mattered.”

“I’m not here to argue,” she said, calm and even. “I just thought maybe you’d talk to me. For once.”

He studied her for a moment, unreadable.

“I don’t do interviews,” he said.

“This isn’t one.”

Silence stretched. Long enough for passing headlights to cast brief shadows across the road.

“You always follow cases this closely?” he asked finally.

She smiled faintly. “Only when they lead to you.”

Arjun blinked—just once—but didn’t let it show.

“You’re wasting your time,” he said.

She shrugged. “Maybe. But you remember this conversation. That’s enough.”

She turned then, walking away without another word.

And that was the part that stayed with him, strangely. The ease with which she walked away—not trying to impress, not waiting for him to stop her. Just... leaving. Like she trusted the moment to do its own work.

He didn’t move for a while, hands still folded, watching the empty road.

Somehow, that quiet conversation would stick longer than most of the loud ones in his life.

Hope you like the chapter. Please feel free to let me know what you think about it...