Chapter 2: A Whisper in the News

The next morning in the Mishra household began like any other. Birds chirped from the mango tree in the courtyard, the milkman honked twice outside the gate, and the aroma of filter coffee mixed with that of freshly fried pooris filled the kitchen. But under the ordinary lay a quiet unease.

Shalini stood by the stove, stirring the potato curry, her mind elsewhere. Her husband, Dinanath Mishra, sat in the veranda reading the Hindustan Times, his glasses perched low on his nose.

Until he stopped.

His eyes narrowed. On the third page, nestled in the corner of a column titled "Corporate Scam Watch", was a name he knew far too well.

“Ankit Mishra, 29, former strategy consultant at a Delhi-based tech firm, is under preliminary investigation for financial irregularities involving client fund misappropriation. While no formal charges have been filed yet, sources within the company suggest that he may have signed key documents that facilitated the scam…”

The newspaper trembled slightly in Dinanath’s hands.

He read the paragraph again. And again.

There it was — in black and white — his son’s name, sitting coldly among words like “fraud,” “irregularities,” and “scam.” His throat tightened, but he remained silent, folding the paper neatly and setting it aside.

---

Inside, Ankit sat on the bed scrolling through news on his phone, the article already bookmarked and read multiple times. His heart sank with every refresh. The coverage was growing — slowly, discreetly, but inevitably.

He knew how this worked. First a whisper, then a headline. He had days, maybe less, before the storm reached full strength.

A knock broke his spiral of thoughts.

It was his mother.

“I made your favourite — poori and aloo,” she said, with a hesitant smile.

He nodded, forcing one in return. “Thanks, Ma.”

She walked in, sat beside him, and placed her hand on his knee. “I want to ask something.”

He looked up.

“That article in the paper… your father saw it.”

He swallowed. “I know.”

“Is it true?” Her voice trembled, but not with anger — with fear.

“No,” he said immediately, then paused. “Not all of it.”

“Then tell me the part that is.”

He hesitated. “I worked with a startup that was trying to grow too fast. The CEO— Vikrant Sharma—he took shortcuts. Used client money without formal approval. When I found out, I confronted him. But by then, things had already spiraled. I was told to keep quiet... or lose everything.”

Shalini searched his face. “But did you sign anything? Anything that could tie you to it?”

He looked away. “I didn’t know what I was signing at the time. I was trying to protect my team.”

Silence hung between them like a judgment neither wanted to pass.

---

Meanwhile, in the living room, Abhishek paced furiously, phone in hand.

“I told you!” he hissed to Meera, his wife. “I told you he’d bring shame. Baba is pretending it’s just gossip. And Ma? She’s acting like he’s a victim.”

Meera replied calmly, “Maybe he is a victim.”

“Or maybe he’s playing everyone. You remember how he left for Delhi without a word? Took Ma’s savings too, without asking.”

“That was three years ago.”

“And now look! Back home, pretending like nothing happened. He’s brought disgrace to this house.”

“You don’t know that yet,” Meera said.

Abhishek scoffed. “I know trouble when I see it. And he is wearing it like a second skin.”

---

Later that afternoon, a family friend dropped by — Mr. Trivedi, a retired school principal and a longtime neighbor.

He brought sweets, pleasantries, and something more dangerous: curiosity.

“I heard Ankit is back,” he said to Dinanath, sipping his tea. “Must be good to have the whole family under one roof again.”

“Yes, it is,” Dinanath replied, forcing a smile.

Trivedi leaned in slightly. “And the news… you’ve seen it, I’m sure. About his company. Such a mess, these startups. No ethics.”

Dinanath’s jaw tightened. “It’s still under investigation.”

“Of course, of course. Just… you know how people talk.” Trivedi sighed dramatically. “A boy from such a respectable family…”

Shalini entered with a tray of snacks. She caught the tail end of the sentence and paused for just a moment before placing the plate down. Her eyes met her husband’s. He didn’t speak, but the message was clear: the whispers had begun.

---

That evening, after the guests left, the tension exploded.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dinanath asked Ankit bluntly.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“That’s not your decision to make!” he snapped. “Do you know what this means for our name? Our reputation?”

“I didn’t do anything illegal,” Ankit replied firmly.

“But you signed the papers!” Abhishek shouted. “You put this entire family at risk!”

“Enough!” Shalini shouted suddenly, her voice echoing through the hall. Everyone froze.

She stepped forward. “He came back because he had no one else to turn to. If he made a mistake, we’ll deal with it as a family. Not like vultures tearing each other apart!”

Dinanath looked down, his anger simmering. Abhishek crossed his arms, still fuming.

Ankit felt a lump rise in his throat — not from guilt, but from the bitter comfort of being seen. Just a little.

That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling fan spinning above, the words repeated in his head:

As a family.

What did that even mean anymore?

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