The police increased patrols around the alley, but nothing changed. No new evidence. No new suspects. Just more silence.
Areeba, Zoya, and Sana were exhausted.
They sat in a small chai dhaba near Saddar, the city's noise buzzing around them. Zoya stirred her tea absently. Sana hadn't touched her paratha.
Inspector Rehan had been avoiding them since the finger was found.
"We have to do something," Areeba muttered. "Before another girl disappears."
"But what?" Sana sighed. "The police don't believe in curses, and no one's going to take us seriously."
Zoya frowned. "Maybe… we don't need the police."
Sana raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Should we hold a seance, baji?"
Areeba's mind was racing. "We need someone who's seen this before. Someone who survived."
Zoya's fingers drummed against the table. "The alley has existed for decades. Someone must have stories."
Sana suddenly straightened. "My Dadi's friend, Bibi Gul—she's old, like, really old. She's lived in Saddar her whole life. She might know something."
Areeba grabbed her bag. "Let's go."