When evidence speaks

ADIRA’S POV

The laboratory had a strange kind of silence at night.

Not peaceful silence. Sterile silence.

The kind that settled between cold metal trays, sealed evidence packets, and the faint smell of chemicals lingering in the air no matter how many times the place was cleaned.

I leaned back in my chair with a groan, stretching my arms above my head until my back cracked painfully.

“God,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

The glowing screen of my laptop stared back at me, half-filled with paragraphs from the research paper I’d been working on for weeks.

The Importance of Forensic Basics in Early Criminal Investigation.

A very long title for something ruining my sleep schedule.

I sighed and saved the document before finally shutting the laptop. My neck hurt, my shoulders hurt, and if I had to read the word DNA one more time tonight, I might actually lose my mind.

Only then did I realise the lab had gone completely quiet. No chatter. No footsteps. No ringing phones. I blinked and glanced around. Everyone had left.

“Great,” I whispered dryly. “Again.”

Typical.

I gather the scattered papers across my desk into a neat stack before slipping them into my bag. Empty coffee cups were pushed aside, pens capped, files arranged. The overhead lights flickered off one by one as I move through the lab.

By the time I stepped outside into the corridor, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. Still, I smiled faintly. Oddly enough, I liked this place.

The sharp scent of disinfectant, the low hum of machines, the constant search for truth hidden inside blood samples and fingerprints—it all made sense to me in ways people often didn’t.

“Ahh,” I breathed, stretching once more. “Finally.”

“Not finally.”

I stopped.

Rahul stood a few feet away holding a thick file against his chest. I stared at him in disbelief. “Again?” I asked flatly.

He winced immediately. “Hear me out first.”

“Rahul bhaiya, if this is another last-minute report—”

“It’s not.” He walked closer, expression unusually serious. “Just take the context tonight. Start tomorrow morning.” I drop my bag onto a nearby table dramatically and crossed my arms.

“Fine,” I sighed. “You have exactly ten minutes before I collapse.”

That earned a grin out of him, but it disappeared the moment he opened the file. “This one’s political.”

My posture straightened slightly.

That never meant anything good.

Rahul flipped through a few pages before stopping. “A girl was assaulted three nights ago.”

The humour vanished from my face instantly.

“She survived,” he added quickly, probably after seeing my expression. “But the case is messy. Very messy.”

I stepped closer and looked down at the reports clipped inside the folder. Photographs. Medical observations. Sample collections. My stomach twisted.

Rahul continued quietly, “Doctors recovered multiple DNA samples from the victim’s body. We need confirmation and matching as soon as possible.”

I looked up at him. “Suspects?”

He hesitated for a second too long.

“People connected a certain party.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. Politics. Of course.

Rahul scoffed softly. “Big speeches. Bigger scandals.”

I didn’t respond immediately. My eyes drifted back to the file resting open between us. The girl was only twenty-two.

Twenty-two.

I swallowed hard and closed the folder carefully.

“So you need my team to process the DNA and prepare the reports?”

Rahul nodded. “The family wants justice before the case gets buried.”

Something bitter settled in my chest at that sentence.

Before the case gets buried. As if that was a normal possibility. As if people had accepted that truth could simply disappear if enough powerful hands pushed it down.

“It’s horrible,” I murmured. “Why are people like this?”

Rahul’s expression softened a little. He placed a hand on my shoulder gently.

“Because the world’s ugly sometimes,” he said. “Which is exactly why people like you are needed.”

I looked away before my emotions could show too clearly.

Forensics had taught me many things over the years.

How to examine. How to calculate. How to stay objective.

But no amount of training could stop the anger that came with cases like these.

“Where are the samples?” I asked finally.

“They’ll arrive tomorrow around ten.”

I nodded tiredly.

Rahul checked his watch before looking at me again. “You look dead.”

“I feel dead.”

“That’s close enough.”

Despite myself, I laughed softly.

He shut the file and handed it to me. “Go home, Adira.”

I hugged the folder to my chest absentmindedly. “Can you drop me to my flat?”

The words came out quieter than intended.

Rahul noticed.

His entire expression changed immediately, protective older-brother instincts taking over.

“Don’t even ask,” he said firmly. “Come on.”

I smiled faintly and followed him through the empty corridor.

The building felt eerily silent now. Our footsteps echoed against the tiled floors as we headed toward the basement parking.

Halfway there, Rahul glanced sideways at me.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Ordered chole bhature around nine.”

“Good.” He unlocked the car remotely. “Otherwise my wife would’ve blamed me for starving you again.”

I laughed under my breath.

“No offence, bhabhi is terrifying when she’s angry.”

Rahul gasped dramatically. “And you think I don’t know that?”

“I’m serious. I’m actually scared of her.”

“Me too,” he whispered conspiratorially while opening the passenger door for me. “One wrong sentence and I’m sleeping on the floor.”

That made me laugh properly for the first time all evening.

The drive home passed easier after that.

Streetlights blurred past the windows while soft music played in the background. Rahul kept rambling about work gossip, his wife’s cooking experiments, and how one of the interns nearly fainted during autopsy observation earlier that morning.

For a little while, the heaviness of the case faded.

Twenty minutes later, his car stopped outside my PG building.

I grabbed my bag and opened the door before pointing at him seriously.

“Text me when you reach home safely.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And make sure you don’t say something stupid and get thrown off the bed.”

Rahul looked offended. “Excuse me?”

I laughed and jumped out before he could retaliate.

“Goodnight, bhaiya!”

“Brat,” he muttered loudly enough for me to hear.

Still grinning, I waved at him and walked inside the building.

The familiar warmth of the PG settled around me almost immediately. Dim corridor lights, distant television sounds from someone’s room, the smell of Maggi lingering somewhere nearby—it felt comforting after hours inside the cold lab.

I unlocked my room and entered with a tired sigh.

My bag landed on the study table while I kicked off my shoes near the bed.

For a moment, I simply stood there in silence.

Then my eyes drifted toward the file.

The girl. The reports. The evidence.

My chest tightened again.

I pulled the folder closer and opened the first page carefully.

A photograph slipped out.

Bruises around a trembling wrist.

I stared at it longer than I should have.

And right below the medical reports—

were names.

Names connected to people powerful enough to silence witnesses, manipulate investigations, and erase truths before they ever reached courtrooms.

A strange uneasiness crept up my spine.

I didn’t know it then.

Didn’t know that this file would drag me into a world far darker than laboratories and reports.

Didn’t know that somewhere beyond those pages existed a man named Avinash Singh Chauhan—

and that meeting him would change my life completely.