A Masked Detective

Chapter 44: 43. Who is Aryan?



"A-Aryan!?" Aarav said, startled—his voice cracking with confusion.

Inspector Ratan gave a measured nod, keeping his tone even.

"Yes. Aryan. Is he your twin?"

Aarav hesitated, eyes darting to the floor. His lips trembled.

"…Yes," he finally admitted. "He was my older brother… by a few minutes."

"Was?"

Ratan leaned forward.

"What do you mean was, Aarav?"

The boy's shoulders stiffened. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"H-he died the same day my father died… in the car accident."

His hands clenched.

"The car crashed into a tree. It was raining. The brakes failed, or something. My father died instantly. Aryan was in the backseat with me…"

A pause.

"I remember... he wasn't breathing. There was blood. I screamed and screamed, but no one came for hours."

Tears welled in Aarav's eyes as his voice cracked.

"I was five. I didn't understand. I just knew… I was alone."

The room fell quiet.

The storm outside growled like a warning.

---

Outside the interrogation room, behind the one-way mirror, the Masked Detective stood silently.

Mr. and Mrs. Dey never mentioned this, she thought.

Not one word about Aryan.

She turned to Ratan's assistant beside her.

"Why didn't Ritika's parents tell us? Why would they hide something like this?"

No answer came—just the heavy hum of silence.

In different rooms, both the Detective and the Inspector were thinking the same thing:

Why hide Aryan?

---

Just then, Aarav's phone—still sealed in an evidence bag—buzzed.

Ratan raised an eyebrow. He stepped forward and carefully turned the screen.

One new message. No caller ID.

> Two hearts. One soul.

One was taken. One was left.

But both remember the mirror.

Attached was an image.

A doll.

But this time, it had two heads—stitched together at the neck.

One face smiling.

The other… weeping.

Ratan's eyes narrowed.

He glanced back at Aarav.

"Aarav," he said slowly, "tell me the truth."

"Do you ever feel like he's still… there?"

Aarav's voice trembled, cracking again.

"W-what do you mean? I… I don't know…"

He hesitated.

"But I've seen this photo before. In Ritika's phone. She showed it to me once. She said… it followed her home."

Ratan stiffened.

The Psycho Doll wasn't just a person.

It was a memory.

A mirror.

A mask.

---

To Be Continued...


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