Kalika was fast asleep when a knock sounded on her bedroom door. She stirred slightly, caught between dreams and wakefulness, but didn’t fully wake up. The knocking grew louder and more insistent.

“Kalika, wake up!” her mother called from the other side of the door, still knocking firmly.

Kalika groggily opened her eyes. “Yes, Mom,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“Come downstairs, breakfast is ready,” her mother said, her footsteps retreating down the hallway.

Kalika sighed heavily and dragged herself out of bed, her body feeling unusually heavy. She shuffled to the bathroom, her feet dragging across the floor. As she stepped inside and reached to turn on the shower, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She froze.

Her body was covered in bite marks, bruises. A dull ache throbbed between her legs, and a wave of fear, confusion, and nausea washed over her. Panic gripped her chest as she stared at herself, struggling to make sense of what she was seeing.

She tried desperately to remember.

The last thing she could recall was being at a club with her friends — the music, the laughter, the swirling lights. After that... nothing. A terrifying blank space in her mind.

She couldn’t even ask her parents how she had gotten home — they had been out of town for the weekend and had only returned that morning. Kalika felt utterly lost. Helpless. She had no idea where to begin or who to turn to for help.

Just then, her phone buzzed loudly on the counter, jolting her out of her daze. Her heart raced as she grabbed it, praying for something—anything—familiar. A breath of relief escaped her when she saw the caller’s name flash across the screen.

She answered immediately, her voice trembling slightly.

"Hey... can I meet you? Please. It's really important," she blurted out, her desperation leaking through every word.

The person on the other end didn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can you come to my office?”

Kalika’s voice cracked slightly with emotion as she replied, “I’ll be there soon.”

After ending the call, she moved quickly, slipping into a pair of jeans and a loose top that would cover her bruises. She pulled on a hoodie for extra cover, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs.

In the living room, her parents were seated at the dining table, talking quietly. Her mother smiled warmly at her.

“Come, sit. Have some breakfast first,” her mother said, gesturing to a plate already prepared for her.

Kalika forced a smile and sat down.She picked at the food, eating just enough to satisfy her mother’s watchful eyes. Her stomach churned with nerves and dread.

“I’m going to meet a friend,” Kalika said, rising from the table as soon as she could.

“Be careful, and call if you need anything,” her mother reminded her.

Kalika nodded, her voice tight. “I will.”

She grabbed her keys, and moments later, she was in her car, driving toward the one person she hoped could help her make sense of the nightmare her life had suddenly become.

After parking her car, Kalika stepped out and spotted her friend emerging from a police car. It was Chandika, a sub-inspector at the Ameerpet Police Station.

Chandika smiled warmly, walked up to Kalika, and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, Kalika! You finally got your dream job!” she said, beaming with pride.

Kalika grinned. “Thank you, Chandika! It still feels surreal.”

“Come inside. Let’s catch up properly,” Chandika said, gesturing toward the police station entrance. 

Kalika followed her into the bustling police station. As they walked in, Kalika’s attention was drawn to a distressed couple at the front desk, pleading with an officer.

"Please, sir," the woman begged, clutching her husband’s arm tightly. "Our son is missing. He would never disappear like this without telling us."

The officer, leaning back lazily in his chair, waved a dismissive hand. "Madam, kids these days—smoking, drinking... He’ll be back when he sobers up."

The man’s voice cracked as he insisted, "No, sir, our son doesn't smoke or drink. He’s responsible. If he were getting late, he would have called us!"

Kalika glanced at Chandika, wondering how she would respond. Chandika’s expression had hardened, her pace quickening. As they moved deeper into the station, officers along the way sprang to attention, saluting sharply.

"Jai Hind, Ma'am!" they chorused.

"Jai Hind," Chandika responded crisply, nodding at each salute. Without breaking stride, she called out to one of the constables, "Constable Simran, take their complaint immediately. Prioritize it."

Simran, already rising from her seat, nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

Turning back to the worried couple, Chandika offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. We'll find your son. Please go with Constable Simran and give her all the details."

Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes as she folded her hands in gratitude. "Thank you, Ma'am, thank you so much."

Kalika watched as the couple followed Simran to her desk. She was impressed by the air of authority and empathy Chandika commanded so effortlessly.

"Nani," Chandika said, beckoning to a young male constable nearby, "Please take Kalika to my cabin. I'll join you shortly."

Kalika smiled and nodded, following Nani through the maze of desks and officers to a small but tidy cabin.

Meanwhile, Chandika turned to the head constable, Rama Rao, her tone sharp and controlled.

"Head Constable Rama Rao," she began, her voice slicing through the air, "what was that behavior at the front desk?"

Rama Rao shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his cap. "Ma'am, you know how kids are these days... roaming around, drinking, getting into trouble—"

"That's not the point," she cut in, her voice low but steely. “You are one of our most experienced officers, and this is how you respond to parents who come here in distress? Are you certain the boy isn’t truly missing?”

Rama Rao swallowed hard and remained silent, the weight of her question settling heavily in the room.

Chandika took a deep breath, keeping her anger in check. “We are not here to judge, speculate, or lecture them. Our job is to protect and serve — without bias. In cases of kidnapping and missing persons, every second matters. The first 48 hours are critical — we call them the golden hours for a reason. According to the parents, their son has already been missing for 24 hours. That leaves us only 24 more hours to act before the trail grows cold. Yes, he might be out with friends, but can you guarantee that? Until proven otherwise, every missing person must be treated as a potential crime victim.”

"I’m sorry, Ma'am," Rama Rao mumbled, bowing his head.

Chandika’s gaze swept across the other officers, her voice rising slightly to address them all. "Let this be a reminder to everyone: No assumptions. No delays. If someone comes to us for help, we listen and act without bias. Every minute counts. Do I make myself clear?"

"Clear, Ma'am!" the officers responded in unison, standing a little straighter.

Satisfied, Chandika nodded curtly and turned on her heel, striding toward her cabin where Kalika was waiting.

Inside, Kalika was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice Chandika enter the room. Chandika called her name softly, careful not to startle her.

Kalika looked up, her eyes red and distant, as Chandika pulled a chair close and sat down in front of her.

"Spill it. What's going on?" Chandika asked gently, her voice steady but firm.

Kalika’s hands trembled as she struggled to speak. "I... I had sex," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "But I don’t know who the person is."

Chandika immediately leaned closer, concern flashing across her face. She crouched down so she was eye-level with Kalika, making her voice even softer. "Kalika, listen to me. I’m here to help you, not to judge you. You're safe now, okay? Just breathe."

She handed Kalika a glass of water from the nearby table. Kalika gulped it down, the glass shaking slightly in her grip.

Chandika waited patiently, giving her a few moments to gather herself. Then she reached out and gently took Kalika’s hand in hers.

"Now," Chandika said calmly, "tell me exactly what happened. Start from the beginning."

Kalika nodded shakily.

"Last night, I went to a club with Nina," she began. "We had a few drinks... danced for a while... everything was normal at first. But after that — it’s a complete blackout. I don’t remember anything. I don't know how I got home. Nothing."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she clutched Chandika’s hand tighter.

"Please, Chandika," she pleaded, "help me find out what happened. I need to know. I can't just pretend nothing happened, but... I can't risk my career either."

Chandika stayed silent for a moment, weighing her words carefully.

"What’s the name of the club you went to?" she asked finally.

"Parallax Club," Kalika replied, her voice barely audible.

Chandika’s brows knitted together in thought.

"Kalika," she said seriously, "are you thinking about filing a complaint?"

Kalika shook her head violently.

"No," she said quickly. "I have to report to the Delhi Embassy in a week. If I get tangled up in legal issues, if my father finds out... my career will be over before it even starts. I just want to know what happened so I can deal with it quietly. I need answers — not a scandal.”

Chandika exhaled slowly, her mind racing.

"Parallax Club is an elite club," she said. "It’s extremely private — you can’t even step inside without a membership. Even the police need a warrant to enter. I’m sorry, Kalika, but officially, my hands are tied unless you file a formal complaint."

Kalika’s face crumpled in fear and frustration.

"But," Chandika added after a pause, "I know someone who might be able to help you. Discreetly. Someone who doesn’t need a badge to get answers."

Kalika’s eyes widened with a mixture of hope and desperation.

"Will you take me to them?" she asked.

Chandika squeezed her hand gently.

"I'll arrange it," she promised. "We’ll find out what happened. You’re not alone in this."