Mission Forensic
Morning softened slowly into the flat, as if the June sun had decided to tiptoe instead of blaze. The curtains glowed faintly, brushing warm gold across the floorboards. For the first time in weeks, there was no alarm, no exam schedule pinned to the wall, no bag waiting by the door.
Semester break had begun.
Catherine woke to the quiet—the honest kind, not the held-breath kind. She turned, expecting the familiar weight beside her, but the bed was empty, warm on one side, folded on the other.
The smell of cardamom floated in.
She slipped out of bed, tying her hair up loosely, padding into the living room. Edward stood in the kitchen, hair still damp from a quick shower, stirring something in a pan with an expression of intense concentration—as though breakfast was a delicate forensic procedure.
Catherine leaned against the doorframe.
“You’re up early,” she said.
He didn’t turn immediately, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away.
“Habit,” he replied. “My brain thinks exams are still happening.”
She walked over, leaning closer to the sizzling pan. “Is that… an omelette?”
“An attempt,” he corrected. “Shawn has traumatized me. I’m trying to regain culinary dignity.”
She laughed softly, the sound filling the warm kitchen.
“This is what you look like when a semester isn’t strangling you,” she teased.
He raised an eyebrow. “Unrecognizable, I know.”
She touched his wrist lightly, a soft acknowledgment of the new calm between them. They plated the food side by side and sat by the window, sharing warm chai and overlapping silences.
For a long moment, they simply existed—together, unhurried.
Lodhi Garden — Late Morning
By the time they stepped outside, the sun had risen fully, but June’s heat hadn’t reached its afternoon sharpness yet. The city felt half-asleep, half-celebrating freedom from routines.
They walked through Lodhi Garden on the shaded path near the tombs, sunlight filtering in warm specks across their joined hands. Families picnicked; joggers sweated past; pigeons cooed from somewhere unseen.
Catherine took pictures of a squirrel wrestling with a papad someone had dropped. Edward pretended to analyze the squirrel’s “pattern of attack.”
“It’s classic opportunistic scavenging,” he said gravely.
“Edward.”
“Yes?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
He gave the dignified nod of a man who agreed.
They sat on a low stone ledge. Catherine leaned her head briefly on his shoulder; he rested his cheek against her hair without comment. No one rushed the moment. No one needed to.
Her phone buzzed.
Shawn: “Hope you two are NOT studying. If you are, report to me immediately for deprogramming.”
Ahana: “Ignore him. Enjoy your break properly.”
Catherine snorted. “They’re giving orders now.”
“They’ve earned the right,” Edward said.
The Call
They were on their way to a small café nearby when Edward’s phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
Ridhima ma’am.
He slowed, shoulders tightening instinctively. Catherine saw it immediately—not fear, but duty rising in him like a reflex.
He answered.
“Ma’am?”
A pause.
“I understand… Yes, I can come… I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
He ended the call, exhaling.
“You have to go,” Catherine said quietly. Not accusation—fact.
“Yes.” He searched her face. “But I’ll be back before evening. I promise.”
She nodded, looping her fingers through his briefly.
“Go. Just don’t… disappear.”
His eyes softened.
“I won’t.”
He squeezed her hand once, then turned toward the metro station.
She watched him go—straight-backed, purposeful, a silhouette she knew too well—but something in him was different now. He looked back halfway, catching her eyes.
He smiled.
She smiled too.
Catherine Alone — Afternoon Heat
Home was quieter without him. Not painfully so—just unfamiliar. Catherine opened windows to let the warm air drift through. A faint breeze stirred the curtains; the lilies on the table swayed slightly.
She made herself a small lunch.
Washed the dishes.
Watered the plants on the balcony.
Straightened the cushions Shawn had flung everywhere last time he visited.
Her phone pinged.
Edward: “Running late, but not disappearing. I’ll be home soon.”
Catherine set the phone down, a slow exhale leaving her lips.
Trust, she reminded herself, is built like this—small bricks, not grand gestures.
She picked up her book, settling on the couch as the fan hummed above.
Institute — Empty Corridors
Edward walked through the quiet halls of the institute, the silence amplified by the break. His footsteps echoed sharper than usual. Most rooms were dark; only the faculty wing was lit.
Ridhima ma’am sat at her desk, hair twisted into a bun, surrounded by printouts.
“Good you came,” she said. “Close the door.”
He did.
She slid a sealed envelope toward him.
“BPR&D sent early queries. They’re impressed, but they want a technical correction in your proposal. And this—” she tapped the envelope “—is related.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“Sensitive sample data. Don’t open it outside. And don’t involve anyone yet.”
Her tone dropped a register.
“You’ll understand when you see it.”
Edward nodded.
“I’ll fix whatever needs fixing.”
Ridhima allowed a small, rare smile.
“I know.”
As he left the office, the envelope felt heavier than paper should.
Cliffhanger — Something Followed Them Home
The flat was dim when he returned; Catherine had dozed off on the couch, book fallen open beside her. He placed his bag quietly on the table.
That’s when he saw it.
An envelope—plain, cream, unmarked—slipped halfway under the front door.
His chest tightened.
He bent down, picking it up carefully, as though it might crumble.
It was thin. Weightless.
Inside, only a single sheet of paper.
A printed message in harsh black font:
“STOP DIGGING. BREAK OR NO BREAK.”
Below it—
A cropped photograph.
Catherine.
Standing outside their flat three days ago.
Unaware.
Head turned.
Keys in hand.
Taken from across the street.
His breath froze.
The room felt suddenly warm and cold at once.
Catherine stirred behind him.
“Edward? You’re back?”
He closed his hand around the photo instinctively.
“Yeah,” he said softly.
But the quiet they had earned that morning… fractured, just a little.
Something had followed them into the break.
And it wasn’t done watching.
