**In a roadside dhaba near the police station**
Rohit sat on a wooden bench outside the dhaba(food stall), a glass of hot tea in his hand.
The place was small and noisy. Steel plates clanged in the background, and the smell of fried oil hung in the air.
In front of him, four boys sat quietly with their tea.
Living in hostel. Final-year students. Same engineering college.
Now they looked nothing like it.
Their clothes were dusty, faces bruised, and hands still shaking slightly from the beating. No one spoke. They just stared at their cups like they didn't know what to do next.
The boy Rohit had spoken to earlier was Pratham, sat directly across from him. The rest were Robin, Kaushik, and Alok.
Pratham tried to lift his tea, but his hand trembled midway. He lowered it again, jaw tight, eyes avoiding everyone.
Rohit watched everything silently. Fear… guilt… maybe both.
Each of them had a story. And he needed to hear it.
He glanced to the side.
