Chapter 3: – Whispers of Change

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CID Delhi

It was a slow afternoon at the CID Delhi. The CID Delhi bureau buzzed with a casual hum —papers shuffled, chairs rolled, and mugs of coffee steamed gently on every other desk. Lunch break was stretching lazily, and most officers had gathered in the lounge near the coffee machine, still chatting about the biggest headline of the day: ACP Rajveer's transfer.

The clock had just struck 1 PM, and the usual post-lunch energy dip was settling in. The officers were scattered around the canteen and work desks, enjoying their break, though today, there was something else stirring among them — anticipation, curiosity… and a hint of anxiety.

Senior Inspector Veer Rana, a sharp-witted officer with a commanding presence, was stirring his coffee with one hand, the other casually resting on the table. Dressed in his usual crisp shirt with sleeves rolled up and a holster always clipped to his waist, Veer was the kind of man who rarely smiled — unless the situation absolutely demanded it. He was known for his blunt tongue and fearless nature, often walking into the most dangerous cases with a smirk.

Sitting opposite him was Senior Inspector Simran Kaur, an elegant yet fiercely competent woman in her late twenties. Her intelligence was only rivaled by her sarcasm, which she used generously — especially with Veer. With her black formal trousers, tucked-in shirt, and sleek ponytail, she radiated discipline. But beneath that sharp exterior was someone who deeply

cared about her team.

Today, however, even Simran wasn't her usual calm self.

"I heard ACP Rajveer's transfer papers are finalized," she said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Yeah," Veer replied, sipping his coffee. "CID Mumbai has called him back. Something major is going down there."

Simran narrowed her eyes. "So that means we're getting a new ACP soon."

"I still can't believe it," Senior Inspector Veer Rana said, leaning back with arms folded across his chest. "CID Mumbai called him back. I wonder what's brewing there."

"Must be something huge," Inspector Simran Kaur replied, tapping her nails on the table thoughtfully. "He never leaves a team mid-mission otherwise."

Sitting a little farther, Inspector Shiv Desai had a mischievous glint in his eye — which, as always, meant he was about to say something that would stir the pot.

"Toh matlab kal se naya ACP?" Shiv smirked, looking around. "Aur hum sab andhere mein hai... no briefing, no name, not even a whisper."

Inspector Ravi Malhotra, holding a protein bar in one hand and phone in the other, looked up with raised brows. "Is bureau ka toh AC bhi change hota hai toh pata chal jaata hai. ACP kaise chhup gaya?"

Veer nodded. "Question is — kaisa hoga naya ACP? Hopefully not stricter than Rajveer sir. I still have trauma from the last discipline review meeting."

Simran laughed. "Well, you shouldn't have come late five days in a row."

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Inspector Purvi Mehra was sitting at her desk, completely

disconnected from the buzz around her. She was mechanically flipping through a file, her pen resting idly between her fingers. Her thoughts were miles away… more precisely, they were 1,400 km away — in Mumbai.

In her mind, she was reliving a moment — a case in which she had worked briefly with Senior Inspector Abhijeet from CID Mumbai. It had been years ago, but the impression he left on her had never really faded. Tall, composed, with intense eyes that seemed to see right through people — Abhijeet wasn't just a hero to her; he was the hero.

Over time, that respect had quietly morphed into admiration… and eventually into something deeper.

Simran noticed her staring into space. "Purvi," she called, snapping her fingers. "Earth to Purvi?"

But before Simran could say more, Inspector Shiv Desai, the bureau's mischievous tech expert and the designated team clown, slid into the seat next to Purvi with a smirk on his face. A

hoodie over his uniform shirt and a constant grin on his face, Shiv was the kind of guy who could find a way to tease someone in a hostage situation.

"Purvi madam," Shiv said dramatically, "ek din tu sirf sochti rahegi, aur Abhijeet sir kisi aur ke saath shadi kar lenge."

Purvi instantly turned red. "Shiv! Shut up!"

From across the room, Inspector Ravi Malhotra, the gym-freak and weapon specialist, who looked more like a bouncer than a cop, joined in with a deep laugh. "Seriously Purvi, kab tak yeh 'I'm-just-admiring-from-afar' chalega? It's been three years, aur tu abhi bhi sirf dreamy eyes banake baithi rehti hai."

Purvi rolled her eyes, trying to hide her smile. "Tum log kuch bhi bolte ho."

"Bhai, sabko pata hai," Ravi said with mock innocence. "Pichli baar jab Mumbai se kisi ka call aaya tha, tu file chhod ke phone ki taraf bhaagi thi jaise lottery lag gayi ho."

Shiv chimed in again, putting on a fake Abhijeet voice. "Inspector Purvi, aap CID ki ek zimmedar officer hain."

everyone laughs.

Simran looked at her with a gentle smile. "Lekin sach mein Purvi… tu kab tak chup rahegi? I mean… agar tujhe Abhijeet sir ke liye feelings hain, toh kabhi toh batana padega."

Purvi's smile faded a little. "Woh…. senior hain, Mumbai mein rehta hai, aur... maybe he doesn't even remember me the way I remember him."

Veer, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Jo bhi ho, Purvi. One thing I know — Abhijeet sir respects good officers. Tere jaise kisi ko bhoolna mushkil hai."

Purvi nodded slowly, her eyes drifting back to her desk.

Shiv clapped his hands. "Achha chhodo sab baatein. Let's guess — naya ACP kaun ho sakta hai? Mujhe toh lagta hai koi strict, no-nonsense retired army officer aayega."

Ravi shook his head. "Ya phir koi hawaldar-type jo sabse pehle Shiv ke hairstyle pe case file karega."

Everyone burst out laughing again.

Purvi joined in, though deep down, her heart had started beating just a little faster.

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Abhijit's side

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the tall windows of Aditya's spacious home, casting warm golden streaks across the kitchen. The air was filled with the sizzle of onions and garlic on the pan, and the unmistakable aroma of cumin, fresh coriander, and buttered rotis floated lazily

through the house.

Abhijeet stood near the stove, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pan of paneer bhurji with quiet focus.

He was dressed in a plain dark blue t-shirt and jeans — casual, comfortable, and a rare sight for someone usually seen in formal shirts, suit jackets, or bulletproof vests. The change of city, the upcoming change of designation, and most importantly, the break from the chaos of CID Mumbai had brought a surprising sense of peace.

Leaning against the counter was Aditya, tall and slightly leaner, with boyish charm that hadn't quite worn off despite years of field work. He was munching on a cucumber slice and observing Abhijeet like a judge at a cooking competition.

"Tu CID se zyada kitchen mein expert nikla," Aditya said, grinning. "Ek baar tere haath ki sabzi taste kar li… ab har baar tujhe ji bananipadegi. Bas ab to yehi rule hai."

Abhijeet smirked without looking at him. "Toh khana banana ek galti thi?"

"Galti to nahi hai, bhai," Aditya said, snatching another cucumber slice, "lekin punishment zaroor milegi."

Abhijeet stirred the pan slowly, then looked over his shoulder. "Acha? Tere ghar mein guest ko punishment milti hai?"

Aditya flashed a cheeky grin. "Tu guest kahan hai? Tu toh family hai. Aur family ko kaam karna padta hai."

Abhijeet chuckled. There was something soothing about this house — not just the silence, but the unspoken acceptance that came with Aditya and Dr. Vasu's presence. A far cry from the coldness of the CID Mumbai bureau, where judgment had become a routine, and his every move was analyzed more than appreciated.

"Tu Delhi shift ho raha hai — ye soch ke abhi tak shock mein hoon," Aditya said, placing platesbon the table. "Aur kisi ko pata hai ?"

"Bataane ka koi fayda nahi tha," Abhijeet replied, carrying the food to the table. "Jo sunte nahi, unko bol kar kya karna?"

Aditya sighed and shook his head. "Unhone tujhe samjha nahi… par woh unki problem hai. Tu sirf apna khayal rakh. Aur haan, yahin rehna. Mere room ka AC bhi repair ho gaya hai."

Abhijeet laughed under his breath. "Tu jab bhi emotional hota hai, AC ya fridge ke example deta hai."

"Arrey bhai, main practical banda hoon," Aditya said with a wink. "Emotion express karne ke liye metaphor zaroori hota hai."

They ate together in companionable silence for a while — two seasoned officers, two friends bound not just by cases and bullets, but by a deeper understanding of each other's silences.

As Abhijeet wiped his hands and stood, Aditya asked, "Formalities kab tak khatam ho jayengi?"

"Shaam tak," Abhijeet replied. "Bas kuch paperwork bacha hai. Kal se officially duty join karni hai."

Aditya got up too, walking with him to the door where Dr. Vasu, calm and dignified in his usual white kurta-pajama, waited with a soft smile.

"Jaa beta," Dr. Vasu said, patting Abhijeet's shoulder warmly. "Naya safar hai… nayi zimmedari. Dil se nibhaana. Hum hamesha tere saath hain."

Abhijeet nodded. "Thank you, uncle."

Dr. Vasu smiled. "Ab 'uncle' mat bol. Tujhe kitni baar bola hai — ghar ka hissa ban gaya hai tu."

Abhijeet smiled back faintly, then turned to Aditya. "Kal subah teri car le raha hoon."

Aditya raised both hands in surrender. "Le le. Tu toh ACP ban gaya hai, boss. Mera toh simple zindagi hai ab."

Abhijeet rolled his eyes. "Drama kam kar."

With a last wave to them both, Abhijeet stepped out, the sun glinting off his watch as he walked toward his car.

The weight of the badge he'd carry from tomorrow — the new title, the new team, the unfamiliar stares — it hadn't hit him fully yet.

But somewhere inside him, beneath the calm and logic, something stirred quietly. A strange, unexplainable restlessness.

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