Mumbai District Court
The corridors buzzed with lawyers, clerks, and anxious families waiting for their cases to be called.
"FIR 124/2022, State vs. Rohan Deshmukh, Courtroom 5, Second Floor!"
Outside Courtroom 5, a twenty-five-year-old man sat with his head lowered.
Beside him was a middle-aged woman in a wheelchair.
Her eyes were empty.
She didn't react to the people around her, nor to the repeated announcements echoing through the hallway.
She simply stared into nothing.
The young man's fists were tightly clenched.
His name was Arjun Rao.
Once, he had dreamed of giving his family a better life.
Now...
He had nothing left.
...
A rigid old man took the empty seat nearby. He glanced around the bustling corridor before his eyes settled on the young man and the woman in the wheelchair.
The woman sat motionless, her lifeless eyes fixed on nothing.
The young man beside her looked no better. Though neatly dressed, the exhaustion on his face made him seem years older.
The old man's expression softened.
He turned to the middle-aged man beside him.
"What brings you here?" he asked. Then, nodding toward Arjun and his mother, he added, "And... who are they?"
The middle-aged man followed his gaze and let out a quiet sigh.
"Those two? The boy's name is Arjun. He used to work at some big company, from what I've heard. Good family. Poor, but honest. Everyone around knew them. They worked hard, kept to themselves, and dreamed of leaving the slums behind."
A faint smile crossed his face before fading.
"They were finally beginning to climb out of poverty... until few months ago."
The old man frowned.
"What happened?"
"A speeding luxury car ran over his father and younger sister. His father died on the spot. His sister survived for three weeks before she finally lost the fight."
He glanced toward the woman in the wheelchair.
"And his mother... she never came back from that day. She doesn't speak, barely eats, and just... exists."
The old man's brows knitted together.
"Hmm... Who was driving? Was he arrested? Did they at least receive compensation?"
His tone was calm, almost matter-of-fact.
"In most hit-and-run cases, the driver is arrested, the insurance company pays compensation, and that's the end of it. Case closed."
He shrugged.
"That's usually how these things go."
The middle-aged man let out a dry laugh.
"The drunk son of a powerful industrialist."
The old man froze for a second before chuckling bitterly.
"Oh... ha... I see."
"Then it's better for them to take the money and move on. Fighting someone like that..." He shook his head. "It's a nightmare."
"That's exactly what everyone told Arjun," the middle-aged man replied. "The family approached him privately and offered a settlement. Enough money to leave the slums and start over. But he refused."
"He didn't want money?"
"He wanted justice. He wanted the one behind the wheel to stand trial."
The old man sighed deeply.
"Sometimes... doing the right thing isn't the smartest choice."
The middle-aged man nodded.
"Maybe. But Arjun couldn't let it go. There were witnesses. Several of them. They identified the car. They identified the driver. Everything followed the proper procedure."
The old man leaned forward.
"So what happened?"
"The trial happened."
"The FIR suddenly named the family driver instead. The original witnesses vanished. Months later, a few of them returned, but one claimed he couldn't recognize the driver's face. Another insisted it was a middle-aged man behind the wheel. The rest simply denied everything they had said before."
He let out another bitter laugh.
"Fresh statements. Fresh evidence. Police attestation. On paper, everything looked perfectly legal."
He looked at Arjun.
"But everyone knew the truth."
Silence settled between them before he spoke again.
"Arjun spent every rupee he had trying to save his sister. He sold his bike, borrowed money, even mortgaged the tiny house they lived in."
"In the end... he couldn't save her."
"And while he spent every day running between the hospital and the courthouse... he lost his job too."
The old man slowly looked back at Arjun.
The young man hadn't moved once.
His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
Beside him, his mother stared into empty space as though the world no longer existed.
"...And they're still here?"
His voice had become noticeably softer.
"...Still waiting?"
The middle-aged man nodded.
"When you've lost everything... hope is the last thing you let go."
...
Just then, the courtroom doors swung open.
A group of people walked out first.
At the center was a man in an immaculate white shirt beneath a perfectly tailored black advocate's coat. A gleaming watch peeked out from beneath his cuff, and every step he took carried the confidence of someone who had never tasted defeat.
A crowd of lawyers surrounded him, congratulating him with broad smiles. Behind them, more than a dozen junior advocates hurried along, their arms laden with files.
As he passed Arjun, he slowed for a brief moment.
Their eyes met.
A faint sigh escaped the senior advocate's lips.
It wasn't sympathy.
Nor was it arrogance.
It was simply the look of a man who had seen too many cases like this.
A look that quietly said— "I told you this was impossible."
He adjusted his coat and disappeared into the celebrating crowd.
Moments later, another lawyer stepped out.
Unlike the man before him, his black coat had faded with years of use. The files clutched tightly against his chest were worn at the edges, and the polish on his shoes had long since disappeared.
The exhaustion on his face was impossible to hide.
He stopped before Arjun.
"Arjun..."
The moment he heard his name, Arjun sprang to his feet.
Hope flickered in his tired eyes.
"Sir... the verdict?" His voice trembled. "The judge didn't believe their fake evidence, did he? He punished them... right?"
The lawyer lowered his head.
Silence filled the space between them.
Arjun's heart slowly sank.
After a long pause, the lawyer finally spoke.
"We managed to secure compensation. The insurance company will pay three lakh rupees for your father and ten lakh rupees for your sister. As for the criminal... the court accepted the prosecution's version. According to the evidence, the family driver was behind the wheel. There wasn't enough evidence to prove ... sigh"
"I'm... sorry."
The words struck harder than any weapon.
The lawyer handed him a few documents.
"You don't have to pay my remaining fees. Come to my office in two days and I'll help you complete the compensation process."
The lawyer hesitated and forced a bitter smile.
"Arjun... take care of your mother. Try to start over. And... let this case go. Even if we appeal to the High Court..."
He stopped. He didn't need to finish.
Both of them already knew how the sentence ended.
With a helpless sigh, the lawyer gently patted Arjun's shoulder before quietly walking away.
The documents slipped from Arjun's trembling hands, they scattered across the polished floor.
His legs gave way and collapsed onto his knees.
Around him, the courthouse remained as busy as ever.
Lawyers discussed their next hearings. Clerks called out fresh case numbers. People hurried past without sparing him a second glance.
As though nothing had happened.
As though two innocent lives had never been taken.
His shoulders trembled. A muffled sob escaped his lips. Then another. Soon, months of grief, anger, helplessness, and frustration burst free all at once.
He cried like a man who had nothing left to lose.
No one stopped. No one cared.
After what felt like an eternity, Arjun slowly wiped away his tears.
He bent down and carefully gathered the scattered papers before returning to his mother's wheelchair.
Resting his hands gently on the handles, he looked at her vacant face.
"Mom..."
His voice cracked.
"This can't be the end. I'll find the truth. I'll find every witness. I'll uncover every lie they buried. I'll fight this case again. The High Court... the Supreme Court... I don't care how many years it takes."
"I'll make them answer for what they did."
His mother gave no response. Her empty eyes remained fixed on the distance.
Even so... Arjun slowly pushed the wheelchair toward the courthouse exit.
...
Outside, the evening traffic rushed past.
Arjun pushed his mother's wheelchair to the roadside and raised a hand to hail a taxi.
Then—
HOOOOONK!!
A deafening horn cut through the traffic.
Someone shouted.
"Watch out!"
Arjun turned.
A heavily loaded truck was speeding toward them, its tires screeching against the road.
There wasn't enough time.
"Mom!"
He grabbed the wheelchair and tried to pull it away.
BOOOOM!!
The truck crashed into them.
The impact threw Arjun across the road.
The wheelchair was flung in the opposite direction.
He slammed onto the asphalt.
For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything but a sharp ringing in his ears.
Warm blood spread beneath him.
His vision blurred. He forced himself to look toward his mother.
The wheelchair lay overturned.
She was lying beside it, completely still.
"...Mom..."
He tried to move. His body wouldn't respond.
A weak smile crossed his lips.
"So...this is how it ends."
His eyes slowly closed.
"I only wanted...justice."
Darkness swallowed everything.