Chapter 8: Viral and Vicious

Arjun happened to call me just then.

I answered with shaking hands, voice thick, “Arjun, yaar, yeh sab kya ho raha hai?”

“That mother posted about you online! You’re trending!”

Arjun’s voice was frantic. “Rohan, tu internet pe viral ho gaya hai! Woh aurat ne sab jagah tera naam daal diya!”

I checked the trending topics.

There it was, my name—flashing in hashtags, in bold font, as if I was some villain from a TV crime show.

‘Shop owner with a beast’s face molested my three-year-old daughter, but he’s so powerful the police won’t file a case.’

The words hit me like a blow to the gut. ‘Beast’s face.’ My hands shook as I scrolled through the feed.

The mother had reported me online under her real name.

She’d posted on every local Facebook group, every colony WhatsApp group, even tagged popular Instagram pages that expose “monsters.”

On camera, holding her Aadhaar card, she wept: “In May this year, as a single mother, I rented a shop on this street, hoping to make a little money to support my daughter.

Her voice cracked with every word, tears streaming down her face, her Aadhaar card trembling in her hand. “Main akeli maa hoon, madad chahiye!”

“At the time, I got to know the shop owner next door, and my daughter often played in his shop.

She described in detail how her daughter would play with Kabir, how I’d offer the kids biscuits. All of it twisted to sound sinister.

“But one day, my daughter cried and told me her lower body hurt. She said… she said the shop owner took her to the storeroom, took off her pants, and then kicked and hit her.”

Her voice faltered, and she slapped her own cheeks, the sound sharp and shocking even through the screen.

At this point, the mother slapped herself twice. “I deserve to die! I’m not fit to be a mother! I didn’t protect my daughter!”

She wailed so loudly, even the dog on our street started barking. Her drama was Oscar-worthy, and people online ate it up.

She even posted secretly recorded CCTV footage from the police station online.

I didn’t even know the police station had CCTV. The grainy footage showed me sitting, head bowed, the mother screaming, the child crying. Edited to look like I was hiding something.

The original footage showed the little girl playing in my shop for a while before leaving.

But the mother edited the video, only showing her daughter playing in my shop, and claimed, “The full CCTV was already deleted by that animal. I reported it to the police several times, but they kept delaying, saying there wasn’t enough evidence to open a case!”

The internet doesn’t care about facts. The video was all people needed. “Dekho, CCTV bhi delete kar diya!” the comments screamed.

She cried with a twisted face, “Please, everyone, share this and help us! I have nowhere else to turn. The man who hurt my daughter is so powerful—I can’t fight him.”

The comments section exploded. “Hum hain na, behen!” “Justice for the little angel!”

Through her tears, she accused, “The doctor said my daughter has a serious infection down there, and she was even torn from being molested. I really want to die.”

She held up a doctor’s note, blurry and torn, but enough for people to believe.

“Now my daughter has suffered serious physical and mental harm. If anyone touches her, she cries and screams.”

She sobbed louder, her daughter hiding behind her, peeking at the phone. The drama was complete.

To back up her claims, she said that when she took her daughter to the police, the girl immediately recognised me and cried in fear, saying I touched her.

That single claim, repeated a hundred times, drowned out every denial. People online had already made up their minds.

My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—WhatsApp pings, missed calls, even spammy Truecaller IDs flashing “Molester” instead of my name. My Mausi from Kanpur called, voice trembling, “Beta, kya sach hai? Log poochh rahe hain.”