INT. ORPHANAGE – GOA – EVENING
The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow across the tiled roofs and swaying palm trees of the quiet countryside.
Ahaan steps out of his black jeep, slamming the door hard.
His jaw is tight.
Eyes sharp.
Posture tense.
He's dressed in black — sharp as ever — but there's a storm swirling under that cold, polished surface.
He walks toward the orphanage gate.
Each step heavy.
Fast.
Controlled fury.
---
EXT. ORPHANAGE PLAYGROUND – CONTINUOUS
Children play with paper planes, chalk, and old plastic balls. Laughter floats in the breeze.
Ahaan walks past them with zero expression — scanning.
Until—
A small hand tugs his sleeve.
He stops. Looks down.
A little girl — no older than 5 — stares up at him with wide, curious eyes. Two braids. Bright smile.
LITTLE GIRL (gasps):
"Are you… Mr. Grumpy Spy?!"
Ahaan blinks.
AHAAN (caught off guard):
"What?"
LITTLE GIRL (giggling):
"Mahi di always calls you that!"
Ahaan frowns, confused.
LITTLE GIRL:
"She said you're super serious. Like a robot. Always frowning. Like this—"
(She mimics him, puffing her cheeks and crossing her arms.)
Ahaan doesn't respond.
She leans in, whispering:
LITTLE GIRL:
"She looks at your picture every night.
In her phone.
And then she cries… but she smiles too.
She said, 'One day he'll come back. Just like a movie ending.'"
Ahaan's breath catches.
He kneels slowly, looking at her carefully.
AHAAN (soft):
"She… said that?"
LITTLE GIRL (nodding):
"Yes! She said you're Mr. Grumpy Spy with the secret eyes.
The ones who pretend not to feel but feel too much."
Ahaan's throat tightens.
LITTLE GIRL (brightly):
"She'll be so happy you came.
She said if she saw you again, she'd hug you so tight you'd explode!"
Ahaan stands slowly, stunned.
His mind reels.
What… is happening?
She cried for him?
She kept his picture?
Then why the letter?
Why did she say she fell for someone else?
Why was she the one hurting?
---
INT. ORPHANAGE HALLWAY – MOMENTS LATER
Ahaan walks in.
The laughter fades behind him.
He moves through the corridor — slow now.
His fists unclench. His heartbeat louder than his footsteps.
He passes rooms filled with crayons, storybooks, a smell of food from the kitchen.
A gentle, peaceful place.
And then—
He sees her.
Mahi.
Standing by the window. Her back to him. Wearing a soft beige cotton kurti, hair loosely tied. A clipboard in her hand.
She's speaking to a nurse about medicine stocks — unaware.
Ahaan stops.
Time pauses.
The girl who broke him…
Is right there.
But instead of guilt in her posture — she looks peaceful.
Wounded, yes — but real.
And suddenly…
His rage doesn't roar anymore.
It whispers:
Something's wrong.
AHAAN (softly, to himself):
"Why are you here… like this?"
And in his hand — still crumpled in his coat pocket — is the fake letter.
He stares at it, then at her.
The truth?
Might be more dangerous than the lie he believed.
---