That night, Aadhi sat in his jeep outside the bungalow, watching Anita pour tea for a guest. The guest's face was hidden, but his posture was stiff, rehearsed. When the man turned, Aadhi's heart stopped.

Aadhi nodded. Kerala's backwaters were beautiful, but they were terrible witnesses—currents shifted, tides erased, and everyone talked too much.

Aadhi radioed Mariya. "Get the diving team back. That body we pulled? It had Paul's watch, his clothes, his ring. But it wasn't him. So whose was it, and why did Anita want us to believe her husband was dead?"