Two days passed in uneasy silence. The village of Chandrapur felt restless, as if waiting for something to break. Rupa tried to live normally, but every sound felt too loud, every shadow too close.
That evening, news spread quickly.
A young boy from the neighboring house was missing.
People searched the fields and the riverbanks, calling his name again and again. Each call made Rupa's chest tighten.
At night, the diary trembled on her table.
A new line appeared:
"A name was spoken."
Rupa closed her eyes.
"So this is the cost," she whispered.
Sajib came running to her house.
"They found something," he said. "Near the well."
They went together.
By the old well lay the boy's sandals—muddy, torn, abandoned.
No body. No blood.
Only silence.
The diary wrote one final sentence that night:
"Balance has begun."