The building spat them out into noise.
Traffic. Horns. Diesel smoke mixing with morning heat. The kind of Bhopal chaos that made you feel invisible even when you weren't.
Sneha stood on the pavement, arms crossed tight across her chest. Professional clothes. Hair pulled back. But her eyes kept moving. Left. Right. Scanning faces like she was waiting for someone to recognize her.
Mohan stepped out behind her. Calm. Easy smile. Like they were old friends meeting for chai.
Rahul came last.
Silent.
Hands in pockets. Shoulders hunched slightly. Just another guy in the crowd.
Sneha turned to them. "I said five minutes. That's it."
Mohan nodded. "That's all we need. There's a café nearby. Public place."
She hesitated.
Her eyes swept the street again. Too many people. Students. Office workers. Auto-rickshaws honking. Normal life everywhere.
That's exactly why she agreed.
"Fine," she said. "But I'm not staying long."
They started walking.
Mohan beside her. Rahul a few steps behind.
The walk was short. Two streets over.
Mohan filled the silence with nothing—weather, traffic, how the city had changed since he was a student. His tone was light. Conversational. The kind of small talk that didn't demand answers.
"Roads are worse now, haan? Used to take ten minutes to get anywhere. Now it's twenty."
Sneha didn't look at him. "Haan."
"And the traffic police—useless. Completely useless."
"Maybe."
"You been working at that firm long?"
"I don't know." Her answers were clipped. Automatic.
Mohan didn't push. Just kept the rhythm going. Filling space. Making the walk feel normal.
Rahul didn't join the conversation.
Just walked. Watched the back of her head. The way her shoulders stayed tight. The way she checked her phone twice without unlocking it. The way she glanced over her shoulder once. Twice.
She noticed his silence.
It bothered her.
Not in an obvious way. But something about the guy who wasn't talking felt heavier than the one who was.
The café was small. Glass windows facing the street. College crowd inside—laptops open, notebooks scattered, loud conversations about exams and weekend plans. The smell of filter coffee and burnt toast. Normal. Safe.
They found a table near the back. Away from the windows but not hidden.
Mohan gestured for Sneha to sit. She did. Pulled her chair in. Set her bag on her lap like a shield.
Mohan sat across from her. Relaxed. Open posture.
Rahul took the chair to the side. Not directly opposite her. Not in her line of sight unless she turned. Just… there.
A waiter appeared. Young. Bored. Pen hovering over a notepad.
Sneha ordered quickly. "Chai."
Mohan smiled. "Same for me."
The waiter looked at Rahul.
"Water is fine," Rahul said. Quiet. Flat.
The waiter left.
Sneha's eyes flicked to Rahul. Brief. Then back to Mohan.
She set her bag down beside her chair. Slowly. Like she was deciding whether she'd need to grab it and run.
Mohan leaned back. Casual. "I'm Mohan, by the way. I don't know if you remember me."
Sneha frowned slightly. "Should I?"
"Maybe." Mohan's tone stayed light. "I used to study with Ananya. And Rahul. Final year. We weren't close or anything, but… same circles, you know?"
Her face changed.
Not shock. Recognition. Slow. Careful.
"I… I think I saw you. Once or twice. With them." Her voice was quieter now. Cautious.
"Yeah." Mohan nodded. "Long time ago."
Silence.
The café noise filled it—chairs scraping, someone laughing too loud, the hiss of the espresso machine.
Sneha's eyes moved to Rahul again. Longer this time. Measuring.
"And him?"
Mohan gestured casually. "This is Rajesh. He helps me sometimes. Research. Notes. That kind of thing."
Rahul nodded once.
"Hello," he said. Quiet. No inflection.
Sneha looked at him for another second. Then back to Mohan.
She registered him as not important.
Which was perfect.
The chai arrived. Two small cups. Steam rising. The waiter set down Rahul's water without looking at him.
Sneha wrapped her hands around the cup. Didn't drink. Just held it. Like the warmth was the only thing keeping her hands steady.
Mohan took a sip. Set his cup down carefully. Watched her.
She didn't look up.
He waited.
Finally, she spoke. "Look, I don't want to talk about Ananya."
"I understand," Mohan said.
"That chapter is over for me." Her voice was firm. But tired underneath. Not angry. Just… exhausted. "I moved on. I got a job. I stayed out of it."
"I get it."
"So whatever you're doing—whatever this is—I can't help you." She still hadn't looked up. Still staring at the chai in her hands.
Mohan didn't respond immediately.
Just let the silence sit.
Around them, the café buzzed. A group of students arguing about cricket. The clink of spoons against ceramic.
Sneha's grip on the cup tightened.
Mohan leaned forward slightly. Elbows on the table. Voice lower now. Honest.
"I knew Rahul," he said.
Sneha's shoulders tensed.
She didn't look up. But she stopped moving.
"He didn't do it," Mohan continued. Calm. Matter-of-fact. "I'm not here for a story. I'm not here to drag you into court or put your name in a file somewhere. I'm here because a good man's life ended without proof. And I think you might know something that could change that."
Sneha's jaw tightened. Her hands shook slightly. She set the cup down before the tremor became obvious.
Mohan's tone softened. "If you don't want to help, we'll leave. Right now. No pressure. No questions. You walk out, we don't follow."
She didn't respond.
Just stared at the table. At her chai. At nothing.
The seconds stretched.
Mohan didn't fill them.
Finally, she spoke. Barely above a whisper.
"I can't be involved."
"Okay."
"I just… can't." Her voice cracked slightly. "You don't understand what it was like. After. Everyone looking at me. Asking questions. Police. Reporters. Random people on the street."
"I believe you."
"I left. I changed my number. I stopped going places I used to go. And it still took two years before people stopped recognizing me." She looked up at Mohan. Her eyes were red-rimmed. "I can't go back to that."
"I'm not asking you to."
"Then what are you asking?"
Mohan hesitated. Then: "Just to tell us what kind of person she was. That's all."
Sneha looked away. Out the window. At the street. At people walking past who had no idea who she was.
"My five miutes are over " she said finally. " I go."
"Wait" Mohan said .
Rahul shifted slightly in his chair.
He hadn't spoken since they sat down.
Now he leaned forward. Just a little. Enough that Sneha's eyes moved to him.
His voice was soft. Calm. No edge. No urgency.
"We're not asking you to prove anything."
Sneha stared at him.
Something about his tone…
Not desperate. Not demanding.
Just… tired.
Like he'd been carrying something heavy for too long.
"Just to tell us what kind of person she was," Rahul added.
Sneha didn't respond immediately.
She studied his face. The way he sat. The way his hands rested flat on the table. No fidgeting. No pressure.
She looked back at Mohan. Then at Rahul again.
Something shifted in her expression.
Not trust.
But… less fear.
She picked up her chai. Took a sip. Set it down.
Her hands were still shaking.
"She wasn't close to people," Sneha said quietly. Slowly. Like she was testing the words. "But she wasn't cruel either."
She stopped.
Mohan didn't push.
Rahul didn't move.
The café noise continued around them. Normal. Loud. Safe.
Sneha's chai sat in front of her.
Still steaming.
Still mostly full.
Her fingers traced the edge of the cup.
She didn't look up.
But she didn't leave either.