The train rattled out of Mumbai, and Amaya was still staring out the window like she could
teleport her suitcase back.
"It had my entire life in it!"
"Good," Vikram said without looking up from his phone. "Maybe your next life will pack
lighter."
She glared. "You know sarcasm won't bring my stuff back."
He sighed. "Neither will panic. I'm trying to call lost and found."
But before he could finish dialing, Amaya's phone buzzed — Rhea, her best friend.
Rhea: "Girl, please tell me you didn't lose your luggage again."
Amaya: "Define 'lose.'"
Rhea: "If it's not within a two-meter radius of you, it's lost."
Amaya: "Then... maybe?"
Rhea: "Unbelievable. You have one job—travel! Not scatter!"
Vikram snorted. "You've got a fan club of disbelievers."
She elbowed him. "You're not helping, spreadsheet boy."
Meanwhile, back at CST station…
The three thieves — Bobby, Pinto, and Chhotu — stood around her pink suitcase like it
was a nuclear bomb wrapped in bubblegum.
"Boss, open it fast!"
"Shh! Be gentle. This is the box with the 'item.'"
"Which item?"
"The shiny one we stole but didn't steal. Keep up!"
They unzipped it — only to be showered with clothes, makeup, and a bag of banana chips.
The tiny wooden box sat safely in the corner.
"This is it!" Bobby whispered dramatically"Looks like my mom's jewelry box."
"Your mom doesn't have Interpol on speed dial!"
They stuffed it into a plastic bag and ran — right into Raju the Dabbawala, who was
cycling by with lunchboxes. The collision sent dabbas flying.
"Arrey! Who taught you traffic manners?" Raju shouted, shaking his fist.
One of the lunchboxes popped open, splattering dal on the thieves.
"Boss, I think destiny hates us."
Back on the train, Amaya kept fidgeting. Vikram was quietly analyzing the passenger list
online.
"You're stalking train passengers now?" she asked.
"Research. Someone might've picked up your luggage by mistake."
"Wow, Sherlock Spreadsheet to the rescue."
"That's Mr. Spreadsheet, thank you."
The train jolted. Her elbow hit his coffee. Again.
"Perfect," he muttered, blotting his sleeve. "Why do you come with a built-in disaster
mode?"
"Because it makes life interesting."
"I preferred boring before you."
Amaya looked at him, half-smiling. "You'll thank me when this becomes your favorite
adventure story."
"If it ends with paperwork, sure."
Their banter was interrupted by a vendor shouting, "Chai! Cutting chai!"
Chai Uncle appeared — smiling knowingly.
"Rough day, beta?"
Vikram sighed. "You could say that."
"Ah, then chai is the answer. Always is."
As Amaya took a sip, her phone buzzed again. Rhea:
"We found your suitcase. Or… what's left of it."
Amaya's eyes widened.
"What does that mean?"
"Some men grabbed it and ran. CCTV caught them heading toward Crawford Market."
Vikram froze mid-sip. "You're saying your souvenir box might be with thieves?"
She nodded slowly.
"Oh no," he groaned. "I knew it. You're cursed."
"And you're stuck with me," she shot back.
"Terrific. My life's now a Bollywood heist film."
They exchanged a long look — irritation, disbelief, maybe a spark — and at that exact
moment, the train plunged into a dark tunnel.
Outside, somewhere in Mumbai's lanes, the chase had officially begun.