The Last OTP
At 2:17 a.m., Meera's phone vibrated in the dark.
Your One-Time Password for transaction ₹48,500 is 903771. Do not share with anyone.
She stared at the screen, heart thudding. She hadn't made any transaction.
Five minutes later, another message.
If this wasn't you, contact support immediately.
Her breath grew shallow. The amount was nearly her entire month's savings from her small online store. She opened her banking app—everything looked normal. Balance intact.
Maybe a glitch.
At 2:29 a.m., her email chimed.
BharatRide Taxi – Your ride is confirmed. Pickup: 3:00 a.m. Location: Green Park Residency.
That was her apartment complex.
A cold thread of realization slid down her spine.
Someone was testing access.
Meera dialed customer care. After ten minutes of hold music and scripted reassurances, the executive confirmed there was no completed transaction. No taxi booking linked to her number.
"Probably phishing attempts, ma'am. Ignore."
Ignore?
At 2:41 a.m., her security camera app sent a motion alert.
She lived alone on the third floor. No balcony access. Only one entrance.
The camera feed flickered open.
The corridor outside her flat was dim. Still.
Then, a shadow passed.
Not walking.
Standing.
Just beyond her door.
Her pulse hammered so loudly she thought it would give her away.
The shadow didn't knock.
It didn't move.
It simply waited.
Her phone vibrated again.
New login detected from Windows device. Location: 0.8 km from your address.
0.8 kilometers.
Close enough to be in the building.
Her laptop was on her study desk. She hadn't touched it since evening.
Someone was trying to access her accounts in real time—triggering OTPs, forcing verification loops, confirming her number was active.
And standing outside her door.
She switched off the lights. Silently slid toward the kitchen drawer and wrapped her fingers around the heavy iron pestle.
The shadow shifted.
A faint scraping sound. Metal against wood.
Trying the lock.
Her mind raced. If this was random cybercrime, why physically come here? Unless—
Unless the OTP wasn't for money.
Unless it was to confirm identity.
To ensure she was home.
Her screen lit again.
Your password reset link will expire in 60 seconds.
She hadn't requested it.
The shadow moved closer to the peephole. Blocking it entirely.
As if whoever stood there knew she was watching.
Her throat tightened.
Then—another notification.
Ride Started. Driver: Rakesh Kumar. ETA: 3 minutes.
She hadn't booked a ride.
Unless…
Her stomach dropped.
Someone else had.
To her address.
At 2:58 a.m., headlights washed across the corridor window at the far end. A car had arrived.
The shadow stiffened.
Footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
Heavy. Purposeful.
A knock—firm, official.
"Police!"
The shadow jerked back.
Another voice. "We have a cybercrime trace on this location. Open the door!"
The figure outside her flat bolted toward the stairs.
Running.
Shouting followed. The crash of bodies. A struggle.
Meera stood frozen, pestle trembling in her grip.
Minutes later, another knock—calmer this time.
"Ma'am, please open. Cyber Crime Unit."
She unlocked the door with shaking hands.
Two officers stood there. Behind them, a young man in a delivery uniform was pinned against the wall, wrists cuffed. His face pale.
"He was running an OTP harvesting scam," the officer said. "Sending mass transaction triggers to random numbers. When someone responds or panics, he calls pretending to be bank support. Extracts details."
"But why come here?" Meera whispered.
The officer's gaze hardened.
"He tracks which numbers stay active at night. Confirms occupancy. Then marks flats for later burglary."
Meera's blood ran cold.
"He wasn't after your money tonight," the officer said quietly. "He was confirming you were alone."
The delivery uniform wasn't random.
It was camouflage.
In the scuffle, his phone had fallen. The screen still glowed.
Her number was open.
Under it, a note:
Female. Alone. Third floor. Confirmed awake.
The officer switched it off.
"Sometimes," he said, "the OTP isn't about the transaction."
Outside, the police vehicle lights pulsed red and blue against the corridor walls.
Inside, Meera finally exhaled.
Her balance was untouched.
But something far more valuable had nearly been stolen.