Chapter 13: A Lion’s Survival
Netizens furiously pounded their keyboards, driven by a sense of justice, launching a relentless torrent of abuse at me.
I stopped checking my phone. I left it switched off for days. But the hate leaked through the walls, through the looks, through every closed door in the colony.
At this point, the police station notified me that the case had been officially opened.
Inspector Mishra called me in. “Ab aapka case khul gaya hai. Sabar rakhiye.” For the first time, there was hope.
Arjun saw my shop smashed to pieces, patted my shoulder, and said, “Bhai, the second half of this year..."
He grinned, wiping his own tears. “Bhai, ab hum haarenge nahi. Tu dekh, sab palat jayega. Tu toh Sher hai, Rohan!”
Maybe I was. Or maybe, in this country, you have to become a lion just to survive being hunted.
I looked up at the cracked ceiling of my shop, the last rays of sunlight filtering through the dust. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a future left for me. But this was India—justice is a long, winding road, and only the truly stubborn survive.