Bipin Sen started their Search for the heiress 

The night stretched long and heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional ring of a phone or the muffled sob of a worried heart. Chitrakshi Sen had not returned home. Her absence had begun as a mere concern, but as the hours passed, concern twisted into anxiety, and anxiety into a growing sense of dread.

Her family tried reaching out to everyone they could think of—close friends, distant relatives, even acquaintances she had barely spoken to in years. But the answer was always the same: No, she hasn’t come here.

Akash Pal, ever the picture of a devoted fiancé, stood amongst them, his expression carefully composed. In front of her grieving parents, he dialed number after number, pretending to search as desperately as they were. Each call, each sigh of frustration, each shake of his head—he played his part to perfection, ensuring no one would think to suspect him.

No one ate that day. No one returned to their homes. The Sen mansion, usually filled with laughter and chatter, now felt like a mourning house before death had even been confirmed. People sat together in silence, exchanging glances filled with unspoken fears. Some patted each other’s backs, whispering feeble words of encouragement— She’ll be back soon. She’s fine. You’ll see. But the unspoken fear weighed heavily upon them.

Some, especially the older family members, held back their tears, their pride forbidding them from showing weakness. Their worries weren’t only for Chitrakshi’s safety but also for the whispers that would follow if news of her disappearance spread. A bride vanishing just days before her wedding—what would people say? What would society think? The dishonor, the humiliation—it would stain their family’s name forever.

But as the hours dragged into another sleepless night, even pride had its limits.

At last, Akash Pal took a decisive step, his voice firm but laced with subtle suggestion. He turned to Kiaan Roy, looking him in the eye.

“We can’t just sit here waiting. We need to act.” A pause, then, with the perfect touch of concern, he added, “Lodge a police complaint. They need to start searching for her.”

Kiaan Roy hesitated, as if the words made Chitrakshi’s absence feel all the more real. But the moment of reluctance passed, and he nodded. Without wasting another second, he grabbed his coat and drove straight to the police station.

There, under the harsh fluorescent lights of a dimly lit office, he filed the report, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. The officers took down every detail, questioning everyone—her parents, her closest friends, and, of course, Akash Pal.

Yet, despite all the questions, the police found themselves at a dead end. There were no valid leads, no clear suspects. No ransom note, no signs of a struggle. Chitrakshi had simply disappeared, as if swallowed by the night itself.

But as the investigation deepened, two names kept circling back to the officers—Akash Pal and Kiaan Roy. One was her fiancé, the other the man she had last been seen with. Both had reasons to care for her. Both had reasons to hide something.

And so, the real search began.

The Deception Beneath the Waters

At dawn, when the mist still clung to the surface of the Hooghly River, a lone fisherman cast his net into the water. His weathered hands, accustomed to pulling up the river’s bounty, trembled as he reeled in something unexpected. The bloated, half-devoured corpse surfaced, tangled in the net like an omen of death.

The man staggered back, his throat tightening as he took in the sight—mangled flesh, missing limbs, and what remained of a once-human face, now barely recognizable. His terrified cries echoed across the riverbank, drawing others to the scene. Soon, word spread like wildfire, reaching the ears of the local police.

Within hours, officers arrived, their faces hardened against the horrors they had seen before, yet still uneasy at the gruesome discovery. They examined the wreckage—an overturned car, its windows shattered, its interior soaked with river water. The stench of decay mixed with the sharp, pungent scent of alcohol. Empty bottles lay scattered inside, their labels peeling from moisture. It told a simple story: a reckless driver, a night of drunken misjudgment, a fatal plunge into the river.

But the body—what remained of it—was beyond recognition. The fish had done their work, stripping away the features that once made it human. There were no identifying marks, no distinguishing scars, just a nameless corpse pulled from the depths.

The lead officer, a middle-aged man with a lined face and weary eyes, exhaled heavily. He reached for his radio and sent out a message to all stations.

“Check for any missing persons reported. If there’s one, they’ve just been found.”

And just like that, fate played into Akash Pal’s hands.

The response came swiftly. A woman—young, engaged, from an influential family—had gone missing two days ago. The Sen family had been waiting, hoping for a miracle. But now, their hope was about to be drowned in grief.

The police wasted no time. The car’s registration matched. The circumstances fit. No further investigation was necessary. The pieces fell into place as if guided by an unseen hand. It was an accident, a tragic case of drunk driving that had claimed the life of Chitrakshi Sen.

At the Sen Mansion—

When the call came, the world shattered.

Bipin Sen collapsed into his chair, his body wracked with silent sobs as the words sank in. His wife, trembling, clutched her chest as if trying to hold her heart together. Relatives, friends, and house staff—all frozen, all struggling to accept the unbearable truth.

Their beloved daughter was gone.

When the body arrived, draped in white cloth, the house filled with wails of sorrow. Though unrecognizable, no one dared to say it wasn’t her. Who else could it be? The police had confirmed it, the circumstances matched, and the grief in their hearts refused to let them question fate any further.

Akash Pal stood amongst them, his face a mask of devastation. He played his role flawlessly—his hands shook as he reached for the body, his shoulders trembled with quiet sobs, and when he finally let himself break, he wailed as any heartbroken fiancé would. His cries of anguish blended with the family’s sorrow, convincing everyone of his devastation.

No one doubted him. Not even for a second.

He mourned, he consoled, he stood beside them as the final rites were planned. But deep within, beneath the veil of his carefully crafted grief, only he knew the truth.

This was not Chitrakshi Sen.

Her body was still out there, beyond the reach of the living.

And the police? They had closed the case, sealing it in their records as a mere accident.

Drunk driving.
A tragic end.
Case dismissed.

And Akash Pal?

He walked away unscathed. A man who had buried not just a body, but the truth itself.