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Ayaan’s brow furrows. “Interesting. He’s a drug addict. His mental health deteriorated from excessive substance abuse, which is why he was there for treatment. But there’s more—”

“He’s dead,” I interrupt, looking into his eyes. “Jack Thompson has been dead for over seven months. He died in a car accident.”

Ayaan’s eyes widen. “You knew that?”

“Yeah,” I explain quickly. “When we traced the car details back to him, the investigation hit a dead end because of his death. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.”

Ayaan rubs his chin thoughtfully. “If he’s dead, then someone else must have had access to his car and the Joker mask, and was using them to stalk Simran. But whoever it is, they’re clearly linked to Jack somehow. The hospital might be our only lead.”

I nod, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, though some gaps still remain. “I need a full list of patients from that hospital. Not just the current ones, but also anyone who left or was discharged over the past year.”

“That’s a solid lead,” Ayaan agrees. “I’ll have my team pull the records and cross-reference for any suspicious connections. If there’s a thread to tug, we’ll find it.”

“Thanks,” I say sincerely, my tone full of gratitude.

Before either of us can say anything more, I spot Simran and Meher walking towards us. Their faces are bright with happiness, blissfully unaware of the dark undercurrent of our conversation. Ayaan and I exchange a quick glance, silently agreeing to keep this from them—for now.

“Are you two done with your secret meeting?” Simran asks playfully, though I catch a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

I force a smile, hating that I have to keep her in the dark.

“Just some boring business talk,” I say, watching as Ayaan mirrors my casual demeanour.

“Yeah, and we’re done,” Ayaan replies smoothly.

Simran gives me a questioning look, but I give her my best reassuring smile. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Hmm,” she hums, clearly not convinced, but she lets it go.

“Come on, Ayaan,” Meher says, tugging at his arm. “Paapa’s waiting.”

Ayaan nods and turns back to me. “I’ll update you as soon as I have something.”

“Good,” I reply.

Meher and Ayaan leave with Kailash uncle, and as I watch them go, my mind shifts back to the case. Jack Thompson. The hospital. The Joker mask. It’s all connected somehow, and I’m going to find out how. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re getting closer to something dangerous. The connection to the mental hospital, Jack Thompson’s death, the mask—the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall into place, but I can’t wait until I uncover the entire picture of who is troubling Simran and for what.

SIMRAN

I hover by the study door, carefully balancing a glass of milk and medicines in my hands. Vishnu’s been tied up with Abhay and his New York team ever since that private conversation with Ayaan earlier, and I don’t want to disturb him. With Devika watching over Veer and Avika, I decide to step in and take over one of Vishnu’s daily tasks—giving Pratap uncle his night medication. Vishnu had told me about this, how his father always takes his medicines before bed. Devika usually takes care of it when Vishnu’s not around, but tonight, I just feel like it’s something I should do. For some reason, it just feels right.

I knock softly and push the door open. He’s sitting on the two-seater sofa, papers spread out before him, engrossed in his work, but the moment he sees me, he removes his spectacles and gives me a warm smile.

“Simran? How come you’re bringing this today?” he asks, a little surprised.

“Vishnu’s busy on calls,” I say, then add with a knowing smile, “but that’s not the only reason. I also wanted to thank you.”

Confusion flickers across his face. “Thank me? For what?”

I hand him the glass of milk first, watching as he takes his medicines.

Then, I add, “For orchestrating the impromptu dinner tonight.”

He freezes for a moment, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his face.

“I know you intentionally planned tonight’s dinner with your guests and gave me the entire cooking responsibility to patch things up between Devika, Meher, and me,” I continue.

“How did you figure that out?”