“Naina, I don't think you'll get any useful information from her,” Kalika said, her tone laced with quiet certainty.

“What makes you say that?” Aryahi asked, arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

Kalika pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages. “Here,” she said, holding it up for them to see.On the screen was a message: I'm going home.“I sent that to Naina,” Kalika explained. “She replied, Okay. Text when you reach home. Take care. Good night. I think I sent it to her from my phone last night.”

“Still,” Aryahi said gently, “I think it’s best we talk to her directly before jumping to conclusions.”

Samira nodded in agreement, her expression thoughtful.

Then she turned to Kalika. “Why don’t you try calling her?”

Kalika checked the time on her phone. “It’s 11 A.M. now—she’ll be on her flight. Her new posting is in London, and she was scheduled to fly out this morning.” She hesitated, then added, “Actually, she called me earlier today. I didn’t pick up.”

She gave Samira a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll call her later and update you, Samira Ma’am. I promise.”

Samira gave a brief nod, her eyes scanning Kalika’s face.

A soft smile spread across Kalika’s lips as she spoke again, this time more reflective, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “You know, my entire education was in Hyderabad. After I cleared the UPSC exam, I was sent to Mussoorie for training. It was my first time living away from home. I was excited… but honestly? I was terrified.”

She chuckled lightly. “I still remember the moment I walked into our shared room. Naina was already there, calmly arranging her belongings. Meanwhile, I stood there like a lost child, clutching my suitcase.”

“I didn’t even realize how much I relied on my parents until I had to choose an outfit for our first official program. My mom used to pick out my clothes without me even asking—every morning. I never had to make a choice for myself. But there I was, staring blankly at my cupboard, unsure of what to do. I was completely lost. I didn’t know what to wear, what looked appropriate—nothing.”

Kalika’s eyes softened. “Naina noticed, of course. She didn’t laugh or make me feel small. She just nudged me gently and said, ‘Pick something you feel like yourself in.’ She helped me choose that day, but more importantly, she helped me choose for myself.”

“Everything that seemed ordinary to others felt so foreign to me. Growing up, every  decision—what to study, which college to attend and everything else— was made by my father. I was so used to being told what was best for me that I never really thought to ask what I wanted.”

“But Naina…” Kalika shook her head slightly, as if marveling at her friend. “She never imposed her opinions on me. She guided me with patience and without judgment. She always asked the right questions—not to confuse me, but to make me think. To reflect. To find my own voice.

She gave me the space to grow, to stumble, and to learn at my own pace. And most importantly, she respected it when I did.”

A small, wistful smile touched her lips. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“What the hell?” Niyati snapped, her voice slicing through the room like a whip. The sudden outburst startled everyone. Conversations died mid-sentence, and all eyes turned toward her.

She didn’t wait for a response. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly, though the urgency in her tone overrode any sense of apology. She spun her laptop around to face the rest of the group. “But look at this.”

On the screen was an image of the Parallax Club—an opulent, sleek building bathed in soft neon light. But the elegance of the picture didn’t seem to match the concern in Niyati’s voice.

“This is the club’s official website,” Niyati explained. “There’s only a single front-facing image of the building, a generic contact number, an email I'D and address. That’s it. No list of services, no events, no gallery of the interiors—nothing.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. Then she added, “And there’s more. I’ve been digging through dozens of reviews. People keep mentioning how exclusive and lavish the place is, but not a single photo—inside or outside. Not one.”

The room fell silent.

“I mean, who goes to a place like this and doesn’t post a single picture on social media?” Niyati pressed. “It’s 2025. Even funerals have Instagram stories now.”

Surya leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “That’s because the Parallax Club is not your average hangout spot. It’s a high-end private club with incredibly strict rules. No photographs—period. Not even outside the premises. You can’t enter without a membership, and to get one, you need a referral from an existing member. It's like a secret society.”

Niyati’s eyes narrowed. “That kind of exclusivity doesn’t come without a reason.”

Surya nodded gravely. “And their security is no joke,” he continued. “Member information is sealed tighter than a vault. Once you're inside, it's like you've crossed into a different world. Whatever happens there—good, bad, or in-between—neither the club nor its members are held accountable. It's a place designed for absolute discretion.”

Kalika, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation, murmured almost to herself, “It’s just a club… then why all this secrecy?”

Samira glanced at her and responded with a quiet intensity. “If you had gold and money at home, what would you do?”

Kalika blinked, taken aback. “I’d lock it down. Take security measures. Stay alert.”

“Exactly,” Samira said, her voice low and steady. “Maybe it’s not just about luxury. Maybe they’re hiding something—or protecting something very valuable.”

Kalika nodded slowly, the puzzle pieces starting to form an unsettling picture in her mind.

There was a moment of heavy silence before Kalika finally turned to Niyati and asked, “Then… how are you going to find out what goes on inside?”

Niyati leaned back, a confident smirk tugging at her lips. “Don’t worry about that. It’s our job to dig through shadows... and we’re damn good at it.”

There was something in her voice, a conviction that made the others straighten slightly in their seats. This wasn’t idle curiosity anymore. It was a mission.

Kalika hesitated, then said thoughtfully, “I’ve been thinking about last night. Don’t try to find that man. Just find out… how I got home last night.”

That made everyone pause again.

“Don’t find that man,” she repeated more firmly. “Maybe it was a one-time thing for him. If it wasn’t, maybe he left a note… or something. I just—” she trailed off, her eyes flicking to Samira. “I think it’s better to let it go.”

Her voice was calm, but a trace of uncertainty lingered underneath.

Samira studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. She understood. Sometimes chasing a ghost did more harm than good.

She turned to Aryahi, ready to speak, but Aryahi was already ahead of her.

“I’ll look into it,” Aryahi said, her voice cool and focused, the wheels in her mind already turning.

Samira gave a slight smile and nodded approvingly. “Surya will go with you.”

Surya’s face broke into a grin. He stood a little straighter and offered Samira a playful two-finger salute. “Roger that, Ma’am.”

The tension eased slightly, replaced by purpose. Outside, the world remained quiet—but inside the room, wheels were turning, plans were being set in motion.