Chapter 23: Singh's Afternoon Guests. The Sci-Fi Horror Action Thriller Web Novel 'The Reason' by Abrar Nayeem Chowdhury

The midday sun beat down on the dusty road outside Singh’s modest bungalow.  Inside the battered van, the team huddled in the shade, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of the dashboard.  Their eyes were glued to the tiny screen of a monitoring device, a silent observer of the unfolding drama.  Attached discreetly to Riya's vibrant saree, a minuscule communication device relayed every word, every inflection, every unspoken thought.

Riya, perched on a stool in the kitchen, flashed a smile as Singh entered.  Her confidence was a carefully crafted façade, a meticulously constructed mask to conceal the tremor of nerves beneath.  She had vehemently, almost defiantly, told Singh she could cook anything.  But the truth, hidden like a viper beneath a tapestry of lies, was quite different.

“I can cook anything,” Riya had proclaimed, her voice a little too loud, a little too assured.  The words hung in the air, a fragile balloon filled with air that was rapidly losing its buoyancy.

Inside the van, the team watched the silent interplay, the subtle movements, the tension simmering just beneath the surface.  They had a thousand reasons to believe Riya was being disingenuous, yet they needed to see the evidence before they pounced.

Singh, his eyes twinkling, merely nodded.  He’d noticed her practiced charm, her seemingly effortless confidence.  But beneath it all, he saw the anxiety, a small flicker of fear that momentarily threatened to unravel her composure. He knew, somehow, that something was amiss.

“Some guests are arriving this afternoon,” Singh announced, his tone a low rumble. “We need momos, noodles, pasta, and coffee for fifteen people. Can you handle it?”

Riya's smile widened, a calculated display of assurance.  "Fifteen? Of course! I'll manage."

A faint smirk touched Singh's lips. "I like your confidence. But there's a condition."

The team in the van held their breath.  This was it.  The moment of truth.  They had watched Riya, day in and day out, and they suspected she was not what she appeared to be.  The tiny screen displayed the subtle shift in her demeanor, the nano-second flicker of uncertainty, now overtaken by a calculated bravado.

“What condition?” Riya’s voice, though steady, held a tremor.  This was a turning point, the moment of truth she'd been dreading.

“Your salary will be on the line," Singh stated, his tone flat and unwavering.  His eyes met hers, holding them captive in a silent confrontation.

The van’s atmosphere thickened, the tension palpable. The team watched, held in suspense by the unfolding scene.  

“Take a moment to rest, Riya,” Singh said, his tone authoritative yet somehow reassuring, as if he somehow sensed the looming storm in her mind. “You’ll need your strength for this afternoon.”

The assistant loomed behind him, a shadow lurking in the doorway. Singh gestured with a flick of his wrist, and the assistant stepped forward. “Bring her to the room,” he commanded, the edges of his voice serrated with expectation.

Riya swallowed hard. She had entered Singh’s world willingly, but each step felt heavier than the last. With her heart pounding like a war drum, she followed the assistant down the narrow hallway, each footfall echoing the doubts racing through her mind.

When they arrived at the room designated for the maid, Riya noted the unceremonious bed, the stacked brooms in the corner, and the scent of stale air mingling with a fragrance of something that felt ominously like despair. The assistant stepped back, leaving her alone. She turned the lock with a soft click, a sound that reverberated in her chest, marking her solitude.

“Team, do you copy?” Her voice cut through the silence like a knife. She activated the device hidden in her saree, tapping the connection with anxiety-fueled fingers.

“Loud and clear, Riya. How’s it looking?” The voice of her team leader, a seasoned operator whose gravelly timbre carried authority, flickered in through the static.

“Singh mentioned fifteen guests. He wants me to prepare food. I need intel on him. What’s the strategy?”

There was a pause on the other end. "Make him drunk at night and try to extract all the secret information. Riya nodded, though she knew no one could see her. “Understood. I’ll make him drink.”

“Stay sharp. Your safety is paramount. We trust you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’ll do my best.” With that, she felt a flicker of determination sprout within, bolstered by the support she had far underestimated.

Once the communication ended, Riya set to work. She needed to focus. She gathered the ingredients for momos, memories of her mother teaching her the craft flooding back. She kneaded the dough, flour dusting the air like fine snow. 

“First, the dough,” she whispered to herself, rolling it out with precision. “Then the filling.” Ground meat mixed with cabbage and spices, her hands expertly molding the mixture, crafting each momo like a small, edible work of art. Boiling water sang on the stove, cautiously simmering as she placed the momos in the steamer. Time passed in a haze of initiative and flurry, the kitchen transforming into a battlefield for her culinary skills.

With the momos steaming, she transitioned to the noodles. Boiling water welcomed the golden strands, an orchestra of bubbling music splashing around her. The aroma of soy sauce and vegetables filled the room as she tossed everything together with a flourish.

Next came the pasta. The rhythm of her movements became almost hypnotic as she sliced tomatoes and chopped garlic, creating a rich sauce that simmered and filled the kitchen with comfort. She cooked the pasta to a perfect al dente, mixing and twirling it with the sauce like a dance partner, spinning away the fear and the doubt in her gut.

Finally, she brewed strong coffee, the bitter scent wafting up to greet her. The rituals of cooking were familiar and comforting, each step pulling her further from the dizzying reality outside.

Once completed, the food lay in a perfect lineup, a feast ready for kings. The assistant reappeared to usher her toward the awaiting guests.

She stepped into the hall, her heart racing as she glimpsed the assembly of wealth and status. Fifteen faces brightened the room; ten men, well-dressed and smug, and five women adorned with jewels that glittered like sharp teeth.

“Take your time, Riya,” the assistant prompted, “You can start serving.”

As she approached the table, laden with dishes, a wave of vulnerability washed over her. She could hear the low murmur of their conversation. She flicked her gaze around. The moment was electric, charged with the thrill of the unknown. 

As she served, snippets of conversation wafted through the air, punctuated by laughter and rich voices. It wasn’t crime, corruption, or politics that filled the space but something as mundane as the latest Salman Khan release, “Sultan.”

“Did you see how he fought? Just like a real champion!” one male guest exclaimed, animatedly gesturing as if he were reenacting a scene.

Another chimed in, “I bet he didn’t even need a stunt double! The man is a legend!”

Their animated applause grated against Riya’s stern composure. She felt a quick jolt of disappointment wash over her like icy water. This wasn’t the conversation she had hoped to intercept; no secrets about Singh bubbled to the surface, and no rogue deals were discussed amid the delicious array of food.

With a small breath, she stepped backward, swallowed by the walls of the hallway. The thrill of opportunity felt distant, lost in the mundane chatter about a movie she had no interest in.

“No secrets here,” Riya muttered under her breath, the weight of missed chances hanging heavy on her shoulders. As she leaned against the wall, disillusionment wrapped its arms around her like a shroud, the hunt for truth receding further into the shadows. 

In that moment, she realized that sometimes, the most dangerous truths lie hidden beneath layers of what people choose to savor, even if disguised in laughter and false camaraderie. She understood that she needed to think of a plan, a way to navigate the tangled web of deception and bring Singh’s secrets into the light.

To Be Continued....

TO BE CONTINUED....

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