Chapter 4: The Trap Springs

Just as we were laying out our plans, Ishaan got a phone call.

The ringtone was an old Bollywood song—one of those bittersweet tunes that make you pause before answering. Ishaan’s hand trembled as he picked up.

It was his ex-girlfriend. She got straight to the point: 'You thought you could hide? Mumbai is too small, Ishaan. Everyone knows everything.'

Her voice was sharp, cold—no trace of the affection she once claimed to have. Ishaan’s jaw tightened, the phone pressed so hard to his ear his knuckles turned white.

Ishaan and I were both stunned.

For a moment, all the air seemed to leave the room. Even the fan stopped spinning, as if waiting for what would happen next.

Ishaan’s face went even paler, lips trembling as he snapped back, 'Stop talking nonsense! Haven’t you done enough to ruin me?'

He tried to sound brave, but I could hear the fear in his voice—the same fear that had haunted us both for months.

There was a pause on the other end. Then, she played a recording.

The static hissed, then our own voices—angry, desperate, plotting revenge. My heart sank. She had us, and she knew it.

It was a conversation between Ishaan and me, discussing the details of our revenge against Amit Sinha.

Every word was clear, every plan spelled out. There was no way out now—no lie we could spin, no cover story strong enough to save us.

Then the woman explained, 'You idiot, I was at your flat when—'

Her tone was triumphant, as if she had already won. Ishaan’s face crumpled, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Outside, the city was waking up, but for us, the night had just begun.