LOST DIRAY OF A MURDER

Inspector Arjun Mehta never believed in coincidences.

When an old, leather-bound diary was discovered in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Mumbai, he had a gut feeling—this wasn’t just some forgotten journal.

The pages were stained and brittle, but the words inside sent a chill down his spine.

"I killed him. And I’ll kill again."

The house where the diary was found had been abandoned for over ten years. A property dispute had left it in ruins, covered in dust and cobwebs.

But someone had been there recently.

The diary was placed carefully on the table. No dust on it. As if someone wanted it to be found.

Flipping through the pages, Arjun read the entries carefully.

The first few pages seemed normal—random thoughts, daily life details.

Then, suddenly, the tone changed.

"It was easier than I thought. No struggle. Just one precise cut. The blood was warm, but I felt nothing."

Arjun’s fingers tightened around the diary.

This wasn’t just a story.

This was a confession.

And the worst part?

There was no name of the victim. No date. No clues.

Just a signature at the end of each entry—"R."

Arjun ran the diary through the forensic team. The ink was old—about ten years—matching the time the house was abandoned.

He searched the records for unsolved murders from that period.

Nothing.

No matching cases. No missing persons.

It was as if the murder never happened.

Unless…

Unless the body was never found.

Just as Arjun was about to drop the case, another diary appeared.

This time, at a different location—a public park near the police station.

A cleaner found it on a bench, wrapped in a plastic bag.

Inside, another chilling entry:

"You’re looking for me, aren’t you? Let’s see if you’re smart enough to find me before I kill again."

This time, it was dated three days ago.

Arjun’s blood ran cold.

The killer was still out there. Watching. Waiting.

Arjun analyzed both diaries. The handwriting was the same. But the tone had changed.

The first diary was a confession.

The second? A challenge.

That meant one thing—R. wanted to be found.

Or worse, was playing a game.

A breakthrough came when Arjun traced the abandoned house’s history.

Ten years ago, a man named Raghav Malhotra had lived there. He had a wife, Sia, who mysteriously disappeared.

The case was dismissed as a runaway. No body was ever found.

But now, Arjun knew the truth.

Sia hadn’t run away.

She was murdered.

And Raghav had been hiding in plain sight ever since.

Arjun needed proof.

So, he set a trap.

A fake news article was published—"Police Reopen the Malhotra Case."

He knew R. would react.

And he did.

The next day, another diary was found.

But this time, Arjun was ready.

CCTV cameras had been installed near the park where the last diary was left.

And they caught him.

A man in a hoodie. Tall, lean. Raghav Malhotra.

But something was off.

Why was he so confident?

Unless…

He wasn’t working alone.

Arjun tracked Raghav down and arrested him. But during the interrogation, Raghav just smiled.

"You think you’ve won, officer?" he whispered.

"You’re too late."

That night, another murder was reported.

A woman, killed in the exact same way as described in the diary.

Arjun’s heart sank.

Raghav wasn’t the only killer.

There was someone else.

A second R.

And the game wasn’t over.

It had just begun.

Arjun’s mind raced.

Raghav Malhotra was in custody, yet another murder had occurred. That meant only one thing—he had an accomplice.

The question was—who?

And why had they waited ten years to strike again?

Arjun’s team analyzed the new murder. The victim, Anjali Verma, was a 28-year-old schoolteacher with no known connections to Raghav.

But the way she was killed—a single precise cut to the throat, no signs of struggle—matched the details in the diary.

Was this the work of a copycat killer inspired by Raghav’s diary?

Or was the second R. always part of the plan?

Arjun confronted Raghav in his jail cell.

"Who is your partner?"

Raghav only smirked. "You should be asking—who’s next?"

That night, the prison guards found a letter in Raghav’s cell.

It wasn’t addressed to him.

It was addressed to Arjun.

"Detective, you’re fun to play with. Let’s see how long you last."

"You’ll know who I am soon. Maybe when it’s too late."

The letter was signed—R.

Raghav had been in custody when it was delivered.

Which meant—someone on the outside was still watching.

And they were coming for Arjun.

Arjun dug deeper into Raghav’s past. He needed to know who else was involved.

That’s when he found something chilling.

Raghav and his wife Sia weren’t alone in that abandoned house ten years ago.

They had a son.

A boy named Rehan Malhotra.

A boy who went missing after his mother’s disappearance.

A boy who would be twenty-five now.

Arjun’s stomach clenched.

Could it be?

Had Rehan grown up to become the second R.?

Was he avenging his mother?

Or worse—was he just continuing what his father started?

That night, Arjun received a call from an unknown number.

"Hello, detective."

The voice was young, smooth.

"Figured it out yet?"

Arjun gritted his teeth. "Rehan Malhotra. You killed Anjali Verma."

A soft chuckle.

"Wrong. I didn’t kill her. I just… gave her to my father."

Arjun’s blood ran cold.

"He’s in jail. How—"

"You think a cell can stop him? Or me?"

Then, the voice dropped to a whisper.

"You’re next, detective."

The call ended.

And Arjun knew—this wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.

Arjun wasn’t going to wait for Rehan to strike.

Using Raghav’s prison logs, he traced an old visitor—a man using a fake name, but with Rehan’s age and description.

A few hours later, surveillance cameras caught Rehan withdrawing money from an ATM near a rundown motel.

Arjun and his team moved in.

They kicked down the door of the motel room—

And found a wall covered in photographs.

Pictures of the victims.

Pictures of Raghav.

Pictures of Arjun.

Pinned in the center was a final message—written in blood.

"Hello, detective."

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Arjun turned—but it was too late.

Three days later, another diary was found.

Inside was one last entry.

"The game is over. But only for now."

"See you soon."

Signed, R.

And just like that—Rehan Malhotra vanished.

Leaving only the fear that someday, somewhere…

He would say hello again.

💀The End 💀

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