Mission Forensic
Part 42: First Day of Specialisation
Morning arrived without ceremony—but everything about it felt new.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains of the Delhi flat, catching on freshly ironed lab coats draped over chairs and notebooks stacked with careful intent. The kettle clicked off in the kitchen, releasing a thin, satisfied hiss.
Catherine stood by the mirror, tying her hair back slowly, as if the motion itself needed to be precise today. Edward leaned against the doorframe, coffee mug warming his hands, watching her with the quiet focus he reserved for moments he knew would matter later.
“First day of specialisation,” Catherine said, mostly to herself.
Edward nodded. “Feels heavier than first semester ever did.”
She glanced at him. “Because now it’s not exploratory anymore.”
“Because now,” he said gently, “we’re choosing who we become.”
That landed between them—solid, unafraid.
They moved through the rest of the morning with deliberate calm. ID cards clipped on. Bags checked twice. Shoes tied properly, not rushed. When Edward grabbed his car keys from the bowl by the door, Catherine smiled faintly.
“Driver,” she said, “take us to our academic destinies.”
He bowed slightly. “Seatbelt mandatory. Emotional preparedness recommended.”
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The Drive to Campus
Delhi was already awake.
Edward eased the car into traffic, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the gearshift. The city pressed in around them—autos darting, vendors shouting, buses exhaling black smoke like tired animals.
Catherine watched the road unfurl ahead, sunlight glinting off windshields.
“It’s strange,” she said after a moment. “We’ve driven this route a hundred times.”
“And today it feels different,” Edward finished.
She nodded. “Like the same road, but a new map.”
They stopped at a red light. A tea vendor crossed between cars, steam rising from metal flasks. Edward tapped the steering wheel absently.
“You nervous?” he asked.
Catherine considered it honestly. “Not nervous. Just… aware.”
“Same,” he said. “Like the margin for error just got smaller.”
She smiled. “Mr. Fingerprints already thinking in margins.”
“And Ms. Toxicology already judging my imprecision,” he replied.
They shared a quiet laugh.
As the college gate came into view, something shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. The familiar building stood unchanged, but the weight of expectation had grown.
Edward parked in their usual spot.
They sat for a moment longer than necessary.
Not because they were reluctant—but because they understood this was the last shared pause before the day divided them.
“Lunch?” Catherine asked.
“Same place,” he replied immediately.
She reached for the door handle, then paused. “Have a good first class.”
“You too,” he said. Then, softer: “Tell chemistry I’m proud of you.”
She shook her head, smiling as she stepped out. “Tell fingerprints I’m watching.”
Campus — Shared Arrival, Separate Paths
The campus buzzed with first-day energy.
Students crowded around notice boards, voices overlapping as schedules were compared and lab rooms located. The smell of disinfectant and old books mixed in the corridors. Somewhere, a lab door slammed shut; somewhere else, laughter burst out too loudly.
Edward spotted Shawn and Ahana near the staircase.
“Well,” Shawn announced, throwing his arms wide, “this is the part where the friend group splits into specialised intellectual factions.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ahana said calmly. “I’ve always been specialised.”
Catherine joined them, adjusting her bag. “Fingerprint, Chemistry, Cyber, Biotech.”
“Four branches,” Edward said. “One lunch table.”
“Non-negotiable,” Ahana added.
They stood together a moment longer, aware—without saying it—that this was the last time today they’d share the same direction.
Then they parted.
Different staircases.
Different wings.
The same purpose pulling them forward.
Edward — Fingerprint & Questioned Documents
The lab smelled like paper, powder, and quiet focus.
Edward slipped into his white coat, the familiar weight settling comfortably on his shoulders. Stainless steel tables gleamed under fluorescent lights. Trays of fingerprint brushes—camel hair, fiberglass, magnetic—were arranged with near-reverence.
When Dr. Ridhima entered, the room stilled.
She didn’t waste time.
“Fingerprint science,” she began, “is not about marks. It is about human decisions—where someone touched, why they touched, and what they believed would not be seen.”
Edward straightened.
“Every ridge tells a story,” she continued, holding up a latent print sheet. “But only if you’re patient enough to listen.”
She moved seamlessly into questioned documents, lifting a handwriting sample.
“No one writes randomly,” she said. “Habit always leaks through.”
Edward felt something click into place—not excitement, not nerves.
Belonging.
When the class ended, he realized he hadn’t checked the time once.
Catherine — Chemistry & Toxicology
Catherine’s lab was colder. Sharper.
Glassware reflected the lights with disciplined precision. Reagent bottles stood aligned, labels facing forward. Nothing here tolerated assumption.
The professor spoke plainly. “In toxicology, precision is not academic. It is ethical.”
Catherine loved it instantly.
The rigor.
The responsibility.
The absence of comfort.
She wrote quickly, thoughts already leaping ahead.
Only once did she glance sideways—out of habit.
Edward wasn’t there.
The thought passed. She returned to her notes.
Lunch — Reuniting at the Table
Lunch felt like relief.
They dropped trays at their usual spot, voices rising all at once.
“You won’t believe this,” Edward said immediately, sitting beside Catherine. “Ridhima ma’am taught our first class.”
Catherine’s face lit up. “Of course she did.”
“She said fingerprints are about human choices,” he added. “Not patterns.”
“That tracks,” Catherine said warmly. “My professor basically implied one wrong decimal point could ruin a life.”
Shawn nodded gravely. “Cyber professor implied the same thing, but with more blinking red warnings.”
Ahana sipped her juice. “Biotech professor implied nothing. He simply assumed competence.”
They laughed.
Different classes.
Same table.
Same ease.
Evening — Back at the Flat
They ended up back at Edward and Catherine’s flat without discussion—like gravity had made the decision.
Shoes piled near the door. Bags dropped. Music hummed low.
Home-made food appeared from containers and foil and well-wrapped parcels. They sat on the floor, cross-legged, talking over each other, laughing freely.
Vacation stories. Family chaos. First-day impressions.
A week apart dissolved into noise and warmth.
Later, as Ahana and Shawn prepared to leave, Ahana spoke casually.
“We’re looking for a flat closer to campus.”
Catherine looked up. “Really?”
“Nothing urgent,” Ahana said. “Just practical.”
“If you hear of anything,” Shawn added, “preferably with plumbing that respects human dignity.”
“I’ll ask around,” Catherine promised.
After they left, the flat settled into quiet.
Edward and Catherine cleaned up together, moving in practiced rhythm.
“So,” Catherine said softly, drying a plate. “Specialisation semester.”
Edward smiled. “Feels right.”
She leaned lightly into his side.
“It does,” she agreed.
Outside, Delhi moved on—loud, relentless.
Inside, direction had found them.
Together.
