Time Flows Like a River

The minutes, seconds, and hours stretch endlessly, a stagnant river mirroring the stuck feeling in your gut. Time, they say, flows like a river, but that feels like a cruel joke when your world has been frozen by an unresolved past.

You, Riya Mukherjee, sit alone in your flat, the gun a familiar weight in your hand, the cricket ball a temporary distraction from the silence. Years ago, you walked away from the police force, a piece of you shattered by events the department seemed unwilling or unable to fully confront.

Then, a call. A police commissioner, desperate, needs your help. His daughter is kidnapped. Against your better judgment, against the ingrained distrust you hold for the institution that failed you, you step back into the world you left behind. The city of dreams is about to become a city of nightmares, and you are drawn into the current, whether you like it or not.