Meera’s heart didn’t race with fear. It raced with fury. She stood up slowly, brushing the dirt off her knees.

His smile faltered.

The afternoon sun was unforgiving. It bled through the banyan leaves, painting jagged patterns on the dry, cracked earth of the village outskirts. Meera had promised her mother she’d stay inside until the heat wave passed. But the old well near the abandoned chabutra had a strange pull today — a glint of something metallic wedged between two bricks.

“I know because I put it here yesterday,” she said. “My father is the thanedar of this district. And this footage? It just uploaded to his cloud.”

The Unseen Lens

“So tell me, Ramesh… who caught whom?”