The culprit

The door was snapping shut the very moment it opened, and before Vansh could think of a reason why, he wedged his foot to keep it from closing. He saw the black mass of hair with grey at the roots through the space and called, “Mrs. Sharma! I am Vansh, your daughter’s previous boss”

“I know who you are and that is why the door is closing” she said as she pushed harder on the door. Her rude voice reminded him of the person who picked up his call earlier, but as much as he wanted to he could not connect that voice to Mrs. Sharma. The last time he had heard her she had a smooth and kind voice, though strict in nature. The rudeness in her tone shocked him to his bones.

“Mrs. Sharma?” he asked gently, softly, approaching her like you would a mad man. He didn’t understand why she would behave this way.

Shreya’s mother did not dignify his call with an answer, instead put all her weight on the door and pushed. Her breathing deepened but she kept pushing.

Vansh, on the other hand, was no longer confused but irritated and annoyed. He didn’t like how Shreya’s mother was behaving with him. He respected her, as a wonderful lawyer and the mother of a beautiful, amazing woman, but the woman he saw now deserved none of his respect.

She was being unnecessarily rude and he said so to her, as he pushed the door with all his strength. The door pried open and Mrs. Sharma stumbled a few steps back.

He immediately felt guilty, and he reached out to stable her but she brushed his hands away.

She stood up straight and looking him with a scowl on her lips said, “I do not want you in my house. Get out of here!”

“My father owns this house, and I have the right to come in here” he retaliated, though he knew the words weren’t true.

“No, you can’t. I pay rent. Get out of this house or I’ll call the police” she threatened as she pulled the phone out of her pocket and held it in front of her defensively.

“Ma’am I just want to talk to your daughter, I do not mean any harm” he tried saying gently, but this woman was getting on his nerves and he couldn’t hold it in longer. He had come here after finding a way to free Shreya from her charges, but her mother wasn’t even ready to listen.

“I don’t care what you want! Get out of here” she shouted.

“I will NOT go until I meet your daughter. I have to ask her of something important, only she can help me to free herself from the false accusations” he said, reasonably. He was holding in his temper for now, that was good.

Good work, Vansh, he thought and imaginarily patted himself on his back.

“How?” Shreya’s mother asked, finally stopping with her ‘Get out’ agenda.

Vansh fully expected her to scream at him, but her question changed the gears in his head. And with a now, much calmer head, he explained how, if Shreya saw the camera recordings, she could be able to tell who stole it.

“THAT is your master plan?” asked Shreya’s mother condescendingly.

“Um…yes” he answered, not quite sure of his plan any more.

“The first thing any intelligent robber would do is to delete the recordings, or shut them down during their steal”

“What if the robber isn’t that smart after all? We can check” he suggested, a little excited.

“Of course” she agreed, and turning around called for her daughter to come downstairs. She sat him down on a sofa, the scowl returning but less potent this time.

“Listen to me, Mr. Mehta” she said when Vansh settled in his seat. She bent low to be in his eye level and then said, “This is the last time you are meeting her. I do not want you to corrupt her”

“Corrupt?” he asked, scrunching his brows together.

“Yes! I saw you in her bed and I do not approve of it one bit. My daughter is a good girl; she would never have stooped so low as to date her boss if you hadn’t manipulated her.

I don’t know how you did it but do not enter into her life again. I know that you two have broken up, and it will be better if it stays that way. Got it?” she finished, her eyes hiding not even a drop of her hatred.

Before he could say something, Shreya walked down the stairs and his heart stopped. He forgot all about how her mother hated her, he forgot that they were not together; he even forgot that her mother was right in front of them.

She looked so broken and forlorn, standing at the foot of the steps in her blue night wear, that all he wanted to do was cuddle and comfort her, or kiss it better for her. Her eyes were droopy, clearly sleepy and as difficult as it was for a brown girl to look pale, she did. She looked pale and that worried him.

He had seen her just hours ago, angry and upset, but full of energy; full of the fire that he saw in her. But now, she was just a broken shell. And it pained him to know that somewhere it was his fault.

He was to blame for the missing fire in her eyes.

She slowly walked towards, the steps small and slow; he wanted to reach out to her but he stayed put. He did not want to anger her mother anymore.

“Are you all right?” he asked, he could not stay silent while his love was writhing right in front of his eyes.

Mrs. Sharma eyes snapped right at him, and she glared with obvious disapproval but Shreya’s voice soothed the burn her mother had unintentionally caused.

“Vans.. ah.. Mr. Mehta, um… what are you doing here?” she asked, and though he loved hearing her voice the dryness in her voice startled. He shot right from his seat and into the kitchen, filling a glass of water, he returned to stand right in front of Shreya.

He held out his hand, offering her the water while her mother burned holes in his back. He was thankful she wasn’t speaking now, or he would have snapped at her and Shreya wouldn’t have like that.

She tentatively reached out for the glass of water and took a sip; the dehydration after a long time of stress, sobs and no water asked for more. She took another sip, then another and then gulped down the rest of the liquid.

She blinked up at him and thanked him, conversing only through her grey eyes directly into his grey-blue ones. They walk together onto the sofa, and then he explains.

Shreya and Vansh stare at the screen together, trying to find the culprit. Though Mrs. Sharma stood in the room as a third wheel, the sexual tension in this room could be cut through a knife.

They didn’t speak of anything except the case, they shared nothing except their ideas and yet they smiled, because they were together. Two hours passed, and they were nowhere near to finding anyone suspicious.

“There are only about four or five more recordings left. If we can’t find them in these, then…” he thought best not to continue.

The recording played, and a woman with a tight bun entered his cabin. Her steps were confident and calculated. They couldn’t see her face so they stared at the screen waiting for her to exit.

The door was pushed open. A black heel stepped out of it and then came a pale white woman looking to be in her late twenties or early thirties by the way she walked. They couldn’t see her face but in her hands she held a file, the file.

The yellow file.

They had found the culprit.

Shreya cheered and her mother followed it with a whoop of her arms, but Vansh remained silent. He stared at the screen, trying to tell himself that it was false. That he was imagining things.

‘She couldn’t do that, she wouldn’t do that’ he thought, ‘it must be someone else’ he assured himself but the woman slowly turned her head up a bit and he saw. The brown eyes, long nose and thin lips, it couldn’t have been anybody else. It was her.

“Pooja” he declared.