The rain wouldn't stop.
Aarya sat by her window, watching water slide down the glass like tears. 2 AM in Dehradun. The city was asleep, but sleep had become a stranger since father died.
Three months ago.
They said it was an accident. Drunk driving. Car crashed into a truck on Mussoorie Road. Case closed.
But Aarya knew one thing with absolute certainty - her father never touched alcohol. Not once in forty-eight years of life. Not at weddings, not at parties, not ever.
So why would he drink that night?
She was still staring at the rain when her bedroom door opened slowly. Her mother stood there - Sudha, fifty years old, with grey hair and tired eyes that had cried too much these past months.
In her hands, she held an old diary. Black cover, worn edges.
"Beta." Mother's voice was strange. Too calm. Too final. "This is your father's diary. Keep it safe. Never lose it."
Aarya took it, confused. "Amma, it's 2 AM. Why are you giving me this now?"
Mother didn't answer. She just stood there, looking at Aarya like she was trying to memorize her face.
"I have to go somewhere tomorrow morning. Early."
"Where?"
"Just some work. I'll be back by evening."
Something felt wrong. Mother's hands were shaking. Her eyes were red, but not from crying - from something else. Fear?
"Amma, what's wrong? Tell me."
Sudha walked forward and pulled Aarya into a hug. Not a normal hug. A tight, desperate hug. The kind of hug people give when they know they might never hug again.
Aarya felt her mother's tears on her neck.
"Promise me something, beta."
"Anything, Amma."
"Whatever happens, don't stop fighting for the truth. Your father didn't die in any accident. Remember that."
Before Aarya could ask more, Mother pulled away and walked out. The door closed softly.
Aarya wanted to follow. But her legs wouldn't move. She just sat there, holding the diary, listening to the rain.
Morning came.
7 AM. Aarya woke up with a jolt. She ran to her mother's room.
Empty. Bed made. No note. No nothing.
Phone switched off.
11 AM. Her phone rang. Unknown number.
"Am I speaking to Aarya Rawat?"
"Yes."
"This is Police Control Room, Dehradun. Your mother, Sudha Rawat, was found on Mussoorie Road. Appears to be an accident. Please come to District Hospital immediately."
The phone slipped from Aarya's hand.
Two parents. Two accidents. Three months apart.
This is not coincidence.
This is murder.