Meanwhile, at the crossroads near a roadside dhaba a few miles away from GPS School, the sun blazed hot overhead. Only a handful of men passed by the small food stall. A van sat parked lazily with its front door open.
Chetan sat in the corner of the seat, legs stretched out, staring at the photo of a woman in her mid-thirties on his phone. His eyes were fierce as he focused on her image, as if trying to burn every detail into his memory.
A voice soon interrupted his concentration.
"Chetan bhai, you're going to burn a hole through that photo with your stare alone."
It was Robin, approaching with a spare glass of tea while sipping his own.
Chetan took the glass and sneered. "Kid, in our line of work, it's important to memorize the target. One stupid mistake and you might never get a second chance to regret it."
