Chapter 10: The Sound of Silence

The office clock ticked away into the quiet storm outside, matching the static tension between the flickering fluorescent lights. The downpour had not ceased since the previous hour, and the sky growled with growing impatience. Just then, Thameem entered, his rain-soaked uniform sticking to his skin. His eyes searched the room and landed on Pranav—standing still, unusually stiff, his gaze fixed on a board filled with photos and notes like they were trying to speak to him.

There was something missing in Pranav’s posture, an element Thameem had always admired. The calm composure, the poise—gone. What remained was a man deep in torment, running calculations in his mind faster than his breath could catch up.

Pranav turned as Thameem closed the door.

“They lied, Thameem. Why would they lie? Her mother, her sister. About the bruises. About his drinking habits. Even about the domestic violence cases. What were they trying to protect—or frame?”

Thameem stood still. “Sir, what you’ve uncovered… it’s mind-blowing. Over the years, no one saw any of this—not even us working alongside you. I—”

Pranav cut him off with a subtle wave. “Don’t flatter me. This case is sickening. The pieces don’t fit because someone deliberately bent them.”

He began pacing again, his boots tapping with irregular rhythm against the tiled floor. The storm outside seemed to answer his frustration.

“I think,” Thameem said hesitantly, “we should question Dr. Subashini again.”

“No, not yet,” Pranav snapped, then softened. “We need something more conclusive. She’ll close up the moment we push. First—we need to understand what really happened.”

He stopped pacing and turned. “Listen to this. Hypothetically, Lakshmi had a reason—let’s not dwell on it for now. She laces Raghavan’s coffee with a small amount of alcohol. Just enough. He’s never drunk before, right?”

“Right,” Thameem nodded.

“So he doesn’t know what’s happening to his mind. He’s disoriented. Fogged. She insists he drinks it. Maybe to cloud his senses, delay his reactions. He goes for a bath, and in that short window—something happens.”

“But…” Thameem tilted his head. “Raghavan said when he came out, she was already dead. That he didn’t hear any scream. If her skull was fractured, wouldn’t she have screamed in pain?”

Pranav’s eyes lit up like lightning against the storm.

“Exactly. She didn’t scream.”

He stepped forward. “Why wouldn’t someone scream when their skull is being cracked?”

Before Thameem could respond, Pranav picked up a pen from the desk and jabbed it into Thameem’s forearm.

“Aaah!” Thameem yelled instinctively, flinching.

“Now,” Pranav said, handing him the same pen, “poke your other arm. Same force.”

Thameem looked puzzled, but obeyed. He jabbed himself. His face twisted, but no sound came out.

Pranav leaned in. “It’s called the Perception-Volition Discrepancy. When we inflict pain on ourselves, our brain prepares for it. The signal gets dulled. But when someone else does it, our brain is caught off guard—it responds with a scream, reflexively.”

Thameem blinked. “So… if Lakshmi’s skull was fractured and she didn’t scream, either she did it herself—or she was drugged to the point she couldn’t react.”

“Or… she was expecting the pain,” Pranav whispered, almost to himself.

He looked back at the board. Photos of her motionless body, unbruised. The police file. The coffee cup. The blood stain near the edge of the idol. The positioning of the body. Everything twisted into a haunting portrait of planned ambiguity.

“Thameem,” he said slowly, “what if this wasn’t murder at all? What if this was suicide… staged to look like murder? And cleverly made to frame Raghavan?”

A silence followed. The kind that weighed heavier than words.

Thameem’s voice cracked. “But why? And who would…”

Pranav shook his head. “We may be close to finding that. But the only person who might hold the last piece of truth… is Dr. Subashini. And it’s time we heard her story properly.”

Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked like a warning.

Pranav grabbed his coat, and Thameem followed him out into the night. The rain sliced the darkness like silver needles as they raced through the silent streets toward Lakshmi’s mother’s home.

The wind screamed. The city slept.

And the truth waited at the end of the storm