Nagi woke up early in the morning.
He hadn't slept much anyway.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face tired, and the thoughts that had kept him awake all night still lingered in his mind like stubborn shadows refusing to fade with the dawn. With a weary sigh, he left his room and headed toward the living room, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floor.
But the moment he stepped inside, he froze.
Someone was sleeping on the sofa.
Nagi's eyes widened for a second before he walked closer, his tiredness momentarily forgotten.
It was Kashvi.
Still wearing her Narcotics Department jacket, she was curled up on the sofa with a blanket half slipping from her shoulder. Her dark hair was disheveled, and her boots—still on—hung slightly over the armrest. A few case files lay scattered on the table beside her, along with an empty coffee cup that had long gone cold. She must have returned home late from work and fallen asleep waiting for him.
Nagi's expression softened.
He carefully reached down and pulled the blanket back up over her shoulder.
"Dad..."
Kashvi slowly opened her eyes as if sensing his presence. She blinked a few times, disoriented, then sat up lazily, rubbing her neck. But the moment she saw his face clearly, her sleepy expression disappeared.
"What happened to you?" she asked, her voice still rough with sleep.
Nagi raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Don't pretend." She stood up and walked closer, her sharp eyes scanning his face with the same intensity she used during interrogations. "Your eyes are red. You didn't sleep last night, did you?"
Nagi looked away.
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing." Kashvi folded her arms, the jacket creasing around her elbows. "Yesterday you looked worried too. I noticed it then, and I'm noticing it now. You've got that look—the one you get when something's eating at you."
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Agastya's face flashed through Nagi's mind. The smug smile. The threats cloaked in pleasantries. The way he had spoken about Kashvi as if she were nothing more than a pawn in a larger game.
But instead of answering, Nagi asked calmly, "How did your raid go yesterday?"
Kashvi blinked.
"What?"
"The warehouse operation. Did you catch the supplier?"
The sudden question caught her off guard, pulling her attention away from his sleeplessness.
"No..." She sighed heavily, the frustration evident in the way her shoulders dropped. "We failed."
Nagi looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"And the mole?"
"Still hidden." Frustration immediately appeared on her face, hardening her features. "Someone inside the department is leaking information. We raided three locations and every single one was empty. Cleaned out. Like they knew we were coming before we even left the station."
She began pacing, her boots making soft thuds against the floor.
"We risk our lives every day, Dad. We go into dangerous places, chase down criminals who would kill us without hesitation. And the worst part is not the criminals—it's not knowing who to trust. Looking at your colleagues and wondering if one of them is selling you out."
Nagi quietly listened, his hands tucked into his pockets.
Her attention had already shifted, the question about his sleepless night momentarily forgotten.
"Do you suspect anyone?" he asked.
"A few people." Kashvi rubbed her forehead tiredly, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent in the morning light. "But I don't have proof yet. Just gut feelings. And gut feelings don't hold up in court."
Nagi noticed the exhaustion etched into her features.
"When was the last time you slept properly?"
She groaned.
"Please don't start."
"Answer me."
"Three hours maybe. Four? I lost count."
"And food?"
Kashvi suddenly became quiet, her eyes darting away guiltily.
Nagi stared at her, waiting.
"Kashvi."
"...Yesterday afternoon."
Nagi closed his eyes in disbelief.
"So Officer Kashvi can track drug traffickers across the city but can't remember to eat?"
"I was busy!"
"Busy starving yourself."
"Dad!" she protested, but there was no real heat in it.
Nagi chuckled softly and headed toward the kitchen, his tiredness momentarily pushed aside by the familiar routine of caring for his daughter.
"Case discussion over."
"Hey! I wasn't finished. We haven't even talked about the evidence we found—"
"But I am." He opened the refrigerator and peered inside, assessing the contents. "Potato sandwiches?"
Kashvi instantly looked up, her eyes brightening like a child who had just been promised candy.
"...With extra cheese?"
Nagi smirked.
"And tea."
A smile slowly appeared on Kashvi's face, chasing away the frustration of earlier.
"You're the best."
"I know." He began pulling out ingredients. "Now sit down and stop hovering. You look like you're about to collapse."
"I'm not hovering. I'm supervising."
"Supervising from the table."
Kashvi rolled her eyes but obediently took a seat, watching as Nagi moved efficiently around the kitchen. The familiar sounds of chopping and sizzling filled the apartment, and for a few minutes, the weight of the world seemed to lift.
---
A few minutes later, Kashvi sat at the dining table devouring the sandwiches like she hadn't eaten in days. Crumbs scattered across the plate as she took another generous bite, the cheese stretching in long strands.
"Slow down," Nagi said, sliding into the chair across from her. "The food isn't going anywhere."
"Mm—can't—" she swallowed, "—help it. These are amazing."
Nagi smiled softly, watching her eat. For a moment, everything felt normal. Just a father and daughter sharing a meal.
Suddenly, Kashvi slowed down.
"Hmm..."
She frowned, her chewing becoming thoughtful.
Nagi's hand paused for a brief second as he lifted his tea to his lips.
"I feel like..." Kashvi muttered while chewing, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I wanted to ask you something."
She tried to remember, her eyes drifting around the room as if the answer might be written on the walls.
She looked at Nagi.
Then at the sandwich in her hand.
Then at the steaming cup of tea.
Her stomach growled again, loudly protesting any interruption to its meal.
Kashvi shrugged.
"I know I wanted to ask something... I'll remember later."
Nagi quietly took a sip of his tea, hiding the faint smile on his lips.
For now, at least, the question about his sleepless night had completely vanished from Kashvi's mind.
---
While eating, Nagi casually pulled out his phone, scrolling through the news. His thumb paused over a headline, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Yesterday's drug case had made the national news.
"MASSIVE DRUG HAUL SEIZED IN CITY WAREHOUSE - AUTHORITIES SUSPECT MAJOR CARTEL INVOLVEMENT"
The article speculated wildly, linking the local seizure to international drug networks.
Kashvi continued eating, oblivious to his attention. "What rubbish," she said between bites. "This is just a small group. A local operation. Nothing compared to what's happening elsewhere."
Nagi looked up. "What do you mean?"
"The news reports." She gestured with her sandwich. "They're creating it like last week's Mexico case. Making it sound bigger than it actually is."
Nagi set down his phone. "What case?"
"That dispute between..." Kashvi paused, chewing thoughtfully. "Cartel del Infierno—the Hell Cartel—and La Mano Roja. The Red Hand."
Nagi's interest sharpened. His expression remained neutral, but behind his eyes, something flickered.
"Tell me in detail," he said, leaning back in his chair.
Kashvi raised an eyebrow. "You're actually interested?"
"Of course." Nagi smiled easily. "I love your job. It's fascinating what you deal with."
She studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay. But first you have to know about both gangs."
She took out her phone, wiping her fingers on a napkin before scrolling through her contacts. "Got it. I have some old briefing files saved. Give me a second."
She pulled up the information, and Nagi leaned forward, his tea forgotten.
Kashvi cleared her throat.
And see started to read...
TO BE CONTINUED....