“Sir… I’ve never been with anyone before… not a woman, not a man. You’re the first person I trusted this much…”
Another photo.
Rohan sitting alone at a café near his office.
Another.
Rohan buying medicine at a pharmacy late at night.
Then another.
Rohan standing outside his mother’s house, holding a grocery bag in one hand and his phone in the other.
His fingers began to shake.
— “Why do you have these?”
Vikram finally looked at him.
His face was still calm.
Too calm.
— “Because I needed to be sure.”
Rohan took one small step back.
— “Sure about what?”
Vikram slowly pulled one envelope from beneath the folder and pushed it across the table.
Rohan looked down.
His full name was written on it.
Not just “Rohan.”
His full legal name.
His date of birth.
His address.
Even his mother’s name.
Rohan’s breathing became uneven.
— “Who are you?”
For the first time that night, Vikram’s expression changed.
EducationalResources
Not into a smile.
Not into guilt.
But something heavier.
Something almost painful.
He lowered his voice and said:
— “I’m not the man you think I am.”
Rohan’s stomach dropped.
Vikram opened the envelope and removed a single old photograph.
It was faded, slightly torn at the corner.
Rohan saw a younger woman in it.
Then a man standing beside her.
And in the woman’s arms…
was a baby.
Rohan stared at the photo.
His heart began pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears.
Because the woman in the picture—
was his mother.
And the baby…
was him.
Rohan’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
He looked at the old photograph again.
His mother.
The baby.
Him.
Then his eyes moved to the man standing beside his mother in the picture.
The man’s face was younger, thinner, almost unrecognizable at firs
