The Silent Descent
The night was thick with mist as Akash Pal gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the leather. The rhythmic hum of the tires on the deserted road filled the silence, the city’s distant glow fading in his rearview mirror. He had driven far from the bustling streets of Kolkata, seeking a place where solitude ruled, where darkness swallowed secrets whole.
Beside him, belted into the passenger seat, sat Chitrakshi Sen’s substitute. Motionless. Lifeless.
Akash had planned this carefully. Every detail, every movement, every possible outcome had been rehearsed in his mind. This wasn’t just a cover-up; this was an execution of deception, designed to erase suspicion.
As he neared the Hooghly River, he found the perfect spot—a stretch of road where the city’s watchful eyes did not reach, where the waters ran deep and slow. The river, dark and infinite, stretched ahead like an unmarked grave.
He pulled over, his heart hammering in his chest. The weight of what he had done—what he was about to do—pressed down on him, but he forced himself to move with precision. He reached into the backseat, retrieving the empty alcohol bottles he had brought along. The sharp scent of whiskey clung to the air as he opened one and poured it over the dead body. He soaked her hands, let the liquid seep into the fabric. Then, carefully, he filled a glass and pressed it to her lips, tilting it just enough to let the liquor stain her mouth and fill her stomach.
An accident. That’s what they would believe.
A tragic, reckless night—a bride-to-be drinking herself into oblivion before swerving off the road into the river.
Stepping out of the car, he glanced around. No headlights in the distance, no signs of unwanted company. The river remained still, waiting. He placed the car in neutral, released the brake, and with one final push, he sent it rolling forward.
The vehicle crept toward the edge, gravity pulling it down the embankment. The moment the front tires met the river, the water swallowed them hungrily. Within seconds, the car tilted forward, plunging into the depths. A loud splash shattered the silence, ripples spreading across the dark surface as the car disappeared beneath the current.
Akash stood there for a moment, his breath steady. He watched as the last traces of metal vanished, the river reclaiming what he had given it.
Then, without another glance, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving behind nothing but the quiet whisper of the water and the secret it now held.
No body to doubt.
No trail to follow.
Just an unfortunate accident.
A tragic fate.
There would be no hints.
No traces.
Nothing.
And just like that—Chitrakshi Sen ceased to exist.
The night stretched long and silent, cloaked in an eerie stillness that weighed heavy upon the Sen household. Chitrakshi had not yet returned home. It was unlike her. The hour had grown late, and though they had initially dismissed their unease, anxiety soon crept into their bones like a slow, unrelenting tide.
Her father, Bipin Sen, paced the length of the grand living room, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair every time he sat, only to rise again, restless. Her mother had tried calling her several times, but each attempt was met with the same cold response—her phone was out of network coverage. The hollow silence on the other end of the line made her heart pound with worry.
They knew where she was supposed to be that evening. Chitrakshi had planned to meet Kiaan Roy, a dear friend.
With growing concern, they reached out to Kiaan Roy. He answered swiftly, his voice tinged with confusion and alarm.
“She met me uncle Bipin Sen while we were in the meeting room, Akash Pal and Chitrakshi Sen went out,” he told them. “I think they planned for a date before their wedding as bachelors”
A frown etched deep lines into Bipin Sen’s forehead. Without hesitation, he dialed Akash Pal’s number. The call connected after a few rings.
“Hello?” Akash’s voice came through, calm, unhurried.
“Akash beta, was Chitrakshi Sen with you? She hasn’t come home yet,” Bipin Sen asked, struggling to mask the tremor in his voice.
“Yes, Uncle,” Akash replied smoothly. “We went to a pub for a while, and then I dropped her off at your house.”
The words hit Bipin like a sudden gust of cold wind. A sickening churn twisted in his stomach. If Akash had dropped her home, where was she? He opened his mouth to press further, but hesitated. What could he say? That his daughter had vanished into the night? That something felt disturbingly off?
“Okay, beta,” he said instead, forcing a weak assurance into his tone. “Maybe she went to a friend’s house.”
Akash responded with a polite hum and ended the call. The moment the line went dead, a smirk curled his lips. He set his phone aside, stretching his arms behind his head as he lay back against the plush pillows of his bed. His rage from the earlier betrayal, the seething fury that had consumed him, had finally cooled. That gnawing wrath had settled into something far more satisfying. Revenge. Sweet, silent revenge.
He closed his eyes, letting himself drift into slumber, unbothered by the storm he had left behind.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the phone beside him. The screen was filled with a flurry of missed calls—Bipin Sen, Kiaan Roy, and an assortment of unknown numbers. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his temples before picking up his phone and calling back. His voice, ever so measured, carried no hint of worry.
“Hello?”
“Akash!” Bipin Sen’s voice rang through, tight with fear. “Did Chitrakshi come home after you dropped her off?”
Akash frowned as if he, too, was concerned. “No, Uncle, I thought she did. She hasn’t come home yet?”
“No, beta. We have no idea where she is.”
There was a long pause, filled with heavy silence.
“I’ll come over right away,” Akash said, his tone layered with urgency.
Within the hour, he arrived at the Sen mansion, stepping through its grand doorway with calculated ease. His expression was one of deep concern, his movements deliberate. Every sigh, every furrow of his brow, every glance around the house carried the weight of someone deeply affected by the young woman’s disappearance.
The family, though distraught, felt a small sliver of comfort in his presence. If there was one thing they did not suspect, it was him. And that, Akash Pal knew, was his greatest advantage.