Winter had settled over the city like a quiet whisper, its crisp air urging stillness rather than movement. I woke with an inexplicable heaviness, a reluctance to embrace the day. Even the simplest routines felt burdensome—my delayed gym session, my trainer’s indifference, my own restless mind caught in a fog of unease.
There was no clear reason for my discontent, only a quiet turbulence simmering beneath the surface. Sensing the futility of forcing normalcy, I surrendered to it. A day off. A moment to breathe.
But fate had other plans.
By noon, my phone rang, slicing through the silence like an urgent plea. The name on the screen sent a familiar jolt through me—a friend, a police officer. His tone was grave, his words weighted with unspoken tension. “I need you. It’s a puzzling case.”
Something stirred in me then—a familiar pull of responsibility, curiosity, and something deeper. As a psychologist and research scientist, my mind thrived on solving the incomprehensible, on navigating the hidden corridors of the human psyche. And yet, this wasn’t just another intellectual pursuit—this was something urgent, something real.
I hurried to the station, the cold outside doing little to steady the heat of my growing concern. As I approached, the sight unsettled me—a crowd of parents, anxious and Entering the officer’s cabin, I sensed tension. What had happened?
My heart quickened, not just with anticipation but with the quiet knowing that this day—this seemingly ordinary winter morning—was about to change everything.
My friend silently motioned towards a smaller room where a young girl with ethereal beauty sat in tears. Her vulnerable appearance tugged at my heart, adding urgency to the mystery I was about to uncover.
I sat beside her, my voice gentle, measured, carrying the warmth of reassurance she so desperately needed. “What happened, dear?” I asked, my words a quiet refuge amid the storm of her sorrow.
Her tear-filled eyes met mine, searching—perhaps for answers, perhaps for comfort. In that gaze, I saw a flicker of hope struggling against the weight of despair. Trembling, she confided in me, her voice fragile, every syllable laced with confusion. She continued frantically that her gynecologist had confirmed her
pregnancy and parents were summoned in the police station.
Shock coursed through her as she spoke. “I don’t understand… I have never been close to a boy. I would never…” Her words trailed off into silence, swallowed by disbelief.
She was just fourteen—an innocent village girl looks like an angel, untouched by the harsh realities of the world. A child, now forced to bear the consequences of something beyond her comprehension.
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning. Shocked, I turned instinctively to the police officer, searching his face for answers. Without a word, he gestured for me to step aside. His expression was unreadable, his demeanor tense.
In hushed tones, he revealed the unsettling truth. Week ago, the girl’s mother had noticed something unusual—her daughter’s menstrual cycle had abruptly stopped. Alarmed, she wasted no time and took her to a gynecologist.
The doctor, ever cautious, conducted a pregnancy test—secretly, without informing the mother. The results were startling. Positive.
Disbelief clouded the doctor’s judgment. To be certain, he performed a second test—urine confirmation. Again, the result was undeniable.
Shaken, yet bound by duty, the doctor advised the mother to reveal the truth to the father.
The weight of the officer’s words hung heavily in the air, the pieces of the story still unfolding before me.
A storm of desperation clouded the mother’s judgment as she clung to the doctor’s hands, her voice trembling with an urgency born of fear. “Please,” she begged, “don’t let this ruin her future. Keep this between us. I will bear the consequences whatever they may be. Just protect my child.”
Her plea was raw, laced with an almost reckless resolve. She was willing to risk everything—her reputation, her peace, even her own fate—if only it meant shielding her daughter from a truth too cruel to bear.
But the doctor, though moved by her anguish, could not ignore the weight of her lawful responsibility. The girl was a minor, and the implications were too severe to silence. The oath he had taken bound her—not just to medicine, but to justice.
With a heavy heart, the doctor made the decision. Despite the mother’s desperate appeals, despite the tears that threatened to shatter whatever resolve remained, she took the case to the police.
And that single choice—one act of conscience over concealment—set off an irreversible chain of events. A decision that had unraveled secrets, summoned authorities, and ultimately led to this very moment, standing at the threshold of a truth no one was ready to face.
The officer sat in silent frustration, his fingers drumming against the table, his thoughts tangled in contradictions. A child claims she is untouched. The science declares otherwise.
It was a puzzle unlike any he had ever encountered—an enigma wrapped in undeniable evidence. The girl’s upbringing was impeccable, her parents educated, her home a haven of discipline and care. No signs of neglect, no fractures in their world that might hint at deception.
Yet, the truth lingered like a shadow he couldn’t chase away.
His preliminary inquiries had led him nowhere. Teachers spoke of her brilliance, friends praised her kindness, coaches admired her dedication. She was the ideal student—a topper in academics, a champion in sports, a girl untouched by distractions, let alone relationships.
No signs of secrecy. No history of companionship with the opposite sex.
And still, the test results stood unshaken.
The officer exhaled, staring at the file before him, the evidence mocking his every attempt to rationalize the impossible. Was something being hidden from him? Or was there an unseen force at play—something beyond the realm of understanding?
For the first time in his years of investigation, he found himself staring into absolute darkness, without a thread to follow.
How could this be?
To be Continued…