MAYA

   𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙗𝙮 𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧.- 𝙂𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚 𝙀𝙡𝙞𝙤𝙩. ***    The pitter patter of the rain was one of her favourite sounds, people normally hated getting wet and cold but, she was counted as the odd one in the herd. You’d never see her behaving as a stereotypical Indian girl, just a strange and weird oddball who rolled on its own music, it didn’t know how to go with the flow.     She usually used a variety of fake names, like Seeta, Geeta, Mansi, etc. Maya Singh was her existing name. Jay suggested her to use this name this time because her profession needed it and also because he said it suited her and it literally described her, Maya; that’s what she was, an illusion. One would wonder why fake names? Then it was because Maya lived two lives, one, a life of a college student and second, a life of a cleaner. 

 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘, 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙨 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙉𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚. - 𝙃. 𝙍𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 ***     Crime reporter Kiran Upadhyay sat in his chair scratching his head as he held the papers in his hand, and then looked at the papers scattered over his desk. He sighed, the exhaustion seemed to be growing as he had chased the news of the infamous serial killer who had now taken the name Kali. He rubbed his face which even in his late twenties looked like he was in his forties already. A few of his dark brown hair had gone grey, his skin had turned like brown leather, but all this hadn't affected the sharpness of his brown eyes. He groaned loudly as he eyed the article in his laptop again and then scratched his messy hair. He pushed himself closer to his laptop