Framed in the shadows
Chapter 1
Framed in the shadows
The night was deceptively beautiful. Stars glittered like shards of glass scattered across a velvet sky, and the moon hung too bright, too serene, as if mocking the silence below. A cool breeze slithered through the empty streets, brushing against the lone man walking with heavy steps.
He wore a black jacket to fight the chill, worn slippers clinging to his feet, and clothes that whispered of better days. A crumpled packet of instant noodles peeked from his bag—a small comfort for a long, unforgiving night.
As he crossed the street, a strange noise sliced through the stillness. His eyes darted toward a parked car. Two figures tangled in a fevered embrace. A dry chuckle escaped him—a hollow sound that vanished into the darkness. Without a word, he moved on.
His room greeted him like an old wound: small, dim, and just as battered as its owner. He tossed the noodles onto the table, where newspapers lay scattered like fallen leaves. One by one, he crossed out job listings, frustration mounting with every stroke of the pen. Then, rage flared. Pages tore, paper shredding under his grip.
Outside, the night deepened, shadows thickening like secrets waiting to be told. Inside, the man slumped over the table, surrendering to sleep. But somewhere in the quiet hum of the city, something unseen was stirring—a whisper of danger in the darkness.
The following morning, a thunderous crash shattered the silence. Karthik jolted awake, heart pounding. Someone was trying to break down his door. Rage and fear surged through him as he staggered forward. Before he could reach it, the frame splintered and burst open.
A group of men stormed in, boots thudding against the floor. Cold steel clamped around his wrists.
“You are under arrest,” one officer barked. “You have the right to remain silent and contact your lawyer.”
Karthik froze, confusion twisting inside him. What the hell is happening?
Moments later, he was dragged into a police van, then into the sterile, fluorescent-lit walls of an interrogation room. A team of doctors entered silently, extracting blood, plucking hair, bagging swabs—treating him like a specimen, not a man.
The lead officer stepped forward—Rohit. Sharp, commanding, almost predatory. Behind him, Harish, Tanya, and Revanth watched like hawks.
“Sir… you’ve got the wrong person. I didn’t do anything,” Karthik stammered.
SLAP! Rohit’s hand cracked across his face, fire exploding through his cheek.
“Shut up!” Rohit roared. “How could you brutally rape a girl and burn her body inside her home?”
Karthik’s breath caught. “Rape? Sir… this is impossible! I didn’t—” His voice rose with desperation. “Do you have proof?”
Without a word, Rohit slid a tablet across the table. The screen flickered to life.
Karthik’s pulse hammered. Footage showed him—his face—entering an apartment at 8:55 p.m., leaving at 10:13 p.m. His mouth went dry.
“This… this isn’t possible. Last night, I went to the supermarket, then home. I was asleep… I swear, I didn’t do this.”
Another officer entered, grim, handing a file to Rohit. He smirked, tossing it on the table.
“Your fingerprints,” Rohit said coldly. “Matched at the crime scene. Along with other traces. You are the culprit.”
Chaos boiled over. The case moved fast—court, two hearings—and then the verdict fell like a guillotine: guilty. Fifteen years.
The news spread like wildfire. Cameras flashed. Headlines screamed. Karthik? He was thrown into a pit of hell where mercy didn’t exist.
They broke him daily. Fists rained down. Blood pooled from open wounds. Cold concrete pressed against his skin. He wished for death—but it never came.
After a week of agony, fury burned through his veins like molten steel. His family had abandoned him. No one believed him.
Clenching his fists, Karthik whispered a vow that would shape the rest of his life,“I’ll prove my innocence. No matter what it takes.”
He needed a lawyer—but how? Who would believe him? Using a smuggled phone, he called a stranger. Voice low, urgent, trembling: “Please… come. I need your help.”
The next day, an officer approached. “You’ve got a visitor.”
Hope flickered as they escorted him to the visitor’s room. She sat across the table, calm, eyes unreadable. He froze, trying to place her face—like staring into a shadow from another life.
“Uncuff me,” he muttered.
The guards hesitated. She nodded—a deliberate, silent command. The cuffs clicked open.
Karthik flexed his wrists, eyes locked on hers. A chill crawled down his spine.
“Fifteen minutes. Talk fast,” the officer warned.
Karthik didn’t waste a second. He strode forward, arms out as if to embrace her. She shoved him back, eyes blazing.
“You idiot! Why did you contact me?” Her voice cut like glass.
His jaw tightened, desperation low and trembling. “Anjali… don’t you trust me? I didn’t do this.”
For a heartbeat, her fury softened—just a fraction. The tension between them coiled like a venomous snake.
Minutes crawled. Finally, she exhaled slowly. “Sit.”
He slid into the chair, fingers twitching with restrained urgency. “Anjali, listen. This is a trap. I’ve been set up.” His voice cracked. “I need you… to reopen my case. To fight for me.”
Her lips curled bitterly. “Do I look like a fool to you?”
Karthik leaned closer, voice low, almost dangerous. “Keep your voice down… unless you want them to hear everything.”
She stood, voice trembling but firm. “I don’t trust you. I will never do what you’re asking. Don’t ever contact me again.” She moved toward the door.
Karthik’s eyes darkened. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl. “Anjali… your engagement… fifteen days from now. Refuse me, and I’ll tell your fiancé everything—about us. Every photo, every video.”
She froze mid-step. Disbelief etched on her face, mouth opening slightly, no sound escaping.
He leaned forward, gaze sharp as a knife. A slow, deliberate gesture: “You really don’t have any other choice.” The weight of the threat hung in the air, suffocating, unavoidable.
