The old boathouse stood at the far edge of the lake.
Broken wood. Rusted hinges. A hanging lantern swaying in the wind.
Lake Pichola
Aanya's heart pounded as she walked toward it.
Behind her, Inspector Rathore followed.
Rohan stayed back.
Watching.
Waiting.
The door creaked as Aanya pushed it open.
Inside—
Her father sat tied to a wooden chair.
Wet. Exhausted. But alive.
"Papa!" she ran toward him.
He looked up slowly.
Relief filled his eyes when he saw her.
"Aanya… you shouldn't be here."
Rathore quickly untied him.
"Are you hurt?" Aanya asked.
He shook his head.
"No."
But his face carried something worse than pain.
Guilt.
Rohan stepped inside.
The lantern light cast shadows across his face.
"It's time," he said calmly.
Aanya turned to her father.
"What really happened that night?"
Silence.
The lake water hit the wooden pillars outside.
Your father closed his eyes briefly.
"It wasn't supposed to happen," he said quietly.
"That's not an answer," Aanya replied, her voice trembling.
He looked at Rathore.
Then at Rohan.
Then back at her.
"Karan found out about the land documents," he began. "The forged signatures. The illegal deal."
Aanya felt her stomach twist.
"You were involved?" she whispered.
"Yes."
The word hit harder than a scream.
"But I didn't push him," her father said quickly. "None of us did."
Rohan's jaw tightened.
"He slipped," her father continued. "He was angry. He stepped back. The stones were wet."
"And then?" Aanya asked.
"We froze."
The silence after that was unbearable.
"You left him," Rohan said coldly.
"No!" her father shouted suddenly. "We didn't leave him."
Everyone froze.
"We pulled him out," he said, breathing heavily. "He was unconscious but alive."
Rathore stiffened.
"What?" he whispered.
Her father looked at him.
"You had already run to call for help."
Rathore's face drained of color.
"You said he wasn't breathing," he said weakly.
"He was," her father replied. "Barely."
The room felt like it was spinning.
"What happened then?" Aanya demanded.
Her father swallowed.
"A car arrived."
Rohan's eyes widened slightly.
"A black SUV."
Silence.
"A man stepped out," her father continued. "Someone powerful. Someone connected to the land deal."
"Who?" Aanya asked.
Her father's voice shook.
"He told us to leave."
Rohan's breathing grew heavier.
"He said he would 'handle it.'"
The lantern flickered violently.
"And you listened?" Rohan's voice broke for the first time.
"We were scared," her father whispered. "He said if this became public, all of us would be destroyed."
"And my brother?" Rohan demanded.
Her father's eyes filled with something close to horror.
"I don't know," he said. "When I came back the next morning… the body was already declared dead."
The boathouse fell silent.
Cold.
Still.
Rathore staggered back slightly.
"So we didn't kill him," he muttered.
Rohan's expression changed.
Not rage.
Confusion.
"If that's true," Aanya said slowly, "then someone else finished it."
The storm outside began to calm.
But inside—
The truth felt darker than before.
Rohan looked at her father carefully.
"If you're lying—"
"I'm not," her father said. "That's why I reopened the file this year. I was going to confess."
Aanya's heart skipped.
"You were?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said softly. "Because the man in the black SUV came back."
Silence.
"He's the one who's been sending the messages."
Everyone turned slowly toward the open doorway.
Because behind them—
A car engine started.
Outside.
Near the road.
A black SUV.
Headlights turned on.
And a familiar silhouette stepped out.
Slow.
Confident.
Clapping slowly.
"Well," the man said calmly, "this is inconvenient."