At exactly 3:00 a.m., the city held its breath.
No traffic.
No barking dogs.
No distant television sounds.
Only wind.
In the darkness of a quiet neighborhood, someone stood near a window, watching a house across the street.
"How peaceful…" a voice whispered.
"No noise. No chaos. Just silence."
Inside that house, six-year-old Naini slept peacefully.
Her mother had tucked her in after a long day filled with laughter and a small argument about keeping a stray puppy.
"Mom, please! He needs us!"
Her voice had echoed through the house earlier.
Too loud.
Too bright.
Too alive.
At 3:00 a.m., something changed.
No scream.
No struggle.
No broken glass.
Morning came.
"Naini? Wake up, sweetheart."
Silence.
Her bed was empty.
The room was locked from inside.
Windows shut.
Only her teddy bear lay on the floor.
And the wall clock had stopped.
3:00 a.m.
By evening, police sirens filled the street.
By nightfall, her body was found near the river.
Inside her small sweater pocket, a watch ticked softly.
3:00.
On a nearby wall, written faintly in dust:
Silence is Peace.
Inspector Yami took the case.
She did not know yet that this case would destroy her life.