Chapter-5

The sun had begun to dip below the horizon as Krishna stood in front of the ATM, withdrawing the ten thousand rupees she had painstakingly saved for Mohan’s school fees. She sighed, tucking the money into her purse, her mind racing with all the weekend tasks awaiting her.

By the time she made it home through the sluggish traffic, it was already late. Inside, Mohan sat cross-legged on the floor, his textbooks spread out before him, scribbling down notes with furrowed brows. Krishna walked over and gently placed the money in his hands.

“Here,” she said. “I can’t go to school on Monday, so you’ll have to pay the fees yourself. Keep it safe, okay?”

Mohan’s eyes widened. He held the notes with careful fingers, as though they were more precious than gold. “I will, Didi. Don’t worry.”

Krishna nodded, but concern lingered in her eyes. “Keep it somewhere really safe. You know how Papa is. If he finds it…”

She didn’t need to finish. Mohan already knew. Their father, Banshi Joshi, had a talent for sniffing out money—and an even greater talent for making it disappear, usually into alcohol and gambling. Mohan swallowed hard and quickly stuffed the cash into his school bag, away from prying eyes. But deep down, unease gnawed at him. Money never lasted long in their house.

The next afternoon, when Mohan returned home from his friend Raghav’s place, his worst fear came true.

His father was rummaging through their belongings, his rough hands overturning drawers, cabinets—anywhere Mohan might have hidden something.

And then, Banshi found it.

The crisp rupee notes, clutched greedily in his fingers.

Mohan’s heart plummeted. “Papa, no!” he cried, rushing forward. “That’s for my school fees! Didi worked hard for that!”

Banshi turned, smirking cruelly. “Oh, this?” He waved the money mockingly. “You thought you could hide this from me?”

Mohan lunged, desperate to snatch it back, but Banshi shoved him away effortlessly.

“You,” he spat, eyes dark with resentment.

Banshi's breathed hard.. like a hunting dog.

“You’re the demon child who killed my wife. If it weren’t for you, she’d still be here.”

The words cut deep. Mohan barely had time to react before a sharp slap cracked across his face. He stumbled back, dizzy from the sting, but Banshi wasn’t finished. He grabbed a burning ember from the fire and pressed it into Mohan’s small hand.

A scream tore from the boy’s throat.

By the time it was over, Mohan lay curled on the ground, cradling his burnt palm. The money was gone. And there was nothing he could do about it.

When Krishna came home later that night, exhaustion clinging to her bones, she barely had time to put down her bag before she noticed the bruises. And then the burn.

Her heart clenched. “Mohan, what happened?”

He flinched and tried to hide his hand, but she gently took it, eyes widening at the raw wound.

“Mohan,” she whispered, voice thick with concern. “Tell me the truth.”

A thousand words clawed at his throat, but only one lie escaped.

“It’s not Papa, Didi,” he said quickly. “Raghav and I were cooking, and the shelf fell on me.”

Krishna studied him. The explanation sounded plausible, but something in his eyes made her pause. Still, she sighed.

"Really?"

"Of course.."

Mohan didn't want Krishna to feel sad knowing the new low their Papa steeped into. Krishna slowly nodded. She then took a clean cloth and started wrapping his hand.

“Just… be careful next time, okay?”

Mohan nodded. Krishna smiled at him, but as she turned away, doubt swirled in her mind. Something wasn’t right.

***************

Two days later, on Monday afternoon, Mohan sat on the stone steps outside his school, fingers clenching and unclenching around the straps of his bag. The sting of his burn had dulled, but the ache of losing that money gnawed at his chest.

Raghav, sprawled beside him, tossed a small rock in the air. “So, what are you going to do?”

Mohan exhaled sharply. “I don’t know.”

Raghav sat up. “Well, I do.”

Mohan gave him a wary look. “Should I be worried?”

Raghav smirked. “Probably not. Maybe a little.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “We’re going to the wedding mansion.”

Mohan frowned. “Why?”

“Because rich people throw stupid amounts of money around at weddings. And where do you think the groom’s gifts go?”

Mohan hesitated. “His room?”

“Exactly.”

“And how does that help us?”

“We follow the groom, find his room, and take a tiny bit. He won’t even notice.”

"You mean stealing??"

"They are Filthy rich.. They wouldn't notice ten thousand rupees."

Mohan swallowed. “But… Didi works there.”

“So?” Raghav shrugged. “We just avoid her.”

Mohan still looked doubtful. “The mansion is huge. We don’t even know where the groom’s staying.”

“That’s the easy part. We follow him.”

At that exact moment, their eyes landed on a massive wedding banner nearby. The groom’s name was written in gold lettering.

The boys glanced at each other.

It was a sign from God.

Getting inside the mansion was the first challenge.

They snuck past the security gate, blending in with a group of caterers carrying food trays. So far, so good.

But their relief was short-lived.

“Mohan?”

Both boys froze.

Peeking from behind a decorative pillar, they saw Krishna walking across the hall, a tray in her hands.

Mohan panicked. “Abort! Abort!”

They ducked behind the pillar.

Krishna paused, looking around.

Mohan held his breath. Please don’t see us. Please don’t see us.

Raghav, trying to be helpful, threw a flower pot in the opposite direction. It crashed to the floor.

Krishna immediately turned towards the noise.

The boys took their chance and bolted in the opposite direction.

“That was too close,” Mohan hissed.

Raghav grinned. “I call that strategic distraction.”

Mohan gave him an unimpressed look.

The plan was simple:

1. Find the groom.

2. Follow him to his room.

3. Take the money.

Simple.

Except…

"That’s him!" Raghav whispered, pointing at a well-dressed man.

They stalked him like detectives, hiding behind furniture and peeking from curtains.

Then, the man walked into the kitchen and yelled, "Bhaiya, ek masala dosa banana! Jaldi!"

"WHY WOULD THE GROOM ORDER DOSA IN THE KITCHEN?!" Mohan whisper-screamed.

"…We followed a guest," Raghav admitted.

Attempt #2.

"That’s him!" Raghav pointed at another man in a suit.

They followed him carefully. He walked with purpose, checking his watch, looking very important.

Then he entered a room and pulled out… a DJ controller.

"We followed the DJ." Mohan groaned.

Finally, on their third attempt, they spotted Aryaman Mehta.

This time, they made no mistakes.

They followed him silently as he walked towards his suite, talking on the phone.

And just as they reached his room—

A voice whispered behind them.

"What exactly do you two little criminals think you’re doing?"

Mohan and Raghav nearly jumped out of their skins.

They turned to find a young man crouched beside them, smirking.

Anshuman Mehta.

Their hearts dropped.

"Uh…" Raghav started. "We were just… um…"

"Delivering flowers!" Mohan blurted.

Ansh raised an eyebrow. "Behind a vase?"

"Yep!"

"We love flowers!"

"Obsessed!"

Ansh squinted at them. "You know what I think?"

"Nope! Not interested!" Raghav said quickly.

Ansh smirked. "I think… you’re tiny criminals."

"WE'RE NOT TINY!" Raghav said, offended.

"BUT ALSO NOT CRIMINALS!" Mohan added.

Ansh grinned, clearly enjoying their suffering. "Should I call security?"

"WAIT!" Raghav blurted. "We’re here for the treasure hunt!"

Ansh paused. "Treasure hunt?"

"YES! One of the uncles said there’s a treasure hunt for kids, and the prize is hidden in the mansion!*"

Ansh studied them for a long moment. Then, slowly, he shook his head. "Wow. That was… surprisingly convincing."

The boys held their breath.

Then Ansh chuckled. "Alright, little thieves. I’ll let you go. But if I catch you again… you’ll owe me a real treasure."

He stood up and walked away.

The boys collapsed against the wall.

The boys barely had time to catch their breath before Aryaman left his suite.

Slipping inside, they finally found what they had been looking for—a bundle of crisp notes sitting on the table.

Mohan grabbed the money, hands shaking. “We did it,” he whispered.

Raghav grinned. “We’re geniuses.”

But before they could celebrate—

Footsteps.

Mohan’s heart stopped.

“Closet,” Raghav hissed.

They barely made it inside before the door creaked open.

Trapped in Aryaman Mehta’s closet, their tiny hearts hammered.