Chapter 17 – The Torn Page

Treasure Hunter: The Seventh Tide of Andaman

Chapter 17 – The Torn Page

A locked room gives comfort.
Until you realize—
locks only matter
when the danger stays outside.

🌊 Neil Island

The ride back from Laxmanpur Beach felt quieter than usual.

Not peaceful quiet.

Thinking quiet.

The kind where everyone is replaying the same moment differently.

The disappearing engraving.
The torn page.
The watcher.

And one terrifying possibility—

Someone else was ahead of us.

🚗 Back Through the Silent Roads

Night settled quickly across Neil Island.

Streetlights sparse.

Only occasional tea stalls glowing softly in the dark.

Scooters passing sometimes.
Dogs crossing empty roads lazily.

Very little sound.

“Ei island ta raat e onek alada lage,” I said softly.

“Hmm,” Subho Kaku nodded.

“Din e shanto.”

“Raat e… chup.”

That word stayed with me.

Chup.

Silent.

Like the island itself was hiding things.

🏨 Return to the Hotel

Coco N Huts

The receptionist smiled as we entered.

“Dinner 9 tar moddhe, sir.”

“Okay,” Arindam Da replied.

Normal interaction.

Normal tone.

But none of us felt normal anymore.

🍲 Dinner Without Appetite

Fish curry.
Rice.
Dal.
Fried vegetables.

Good food.

No one cared much.

Even Subho Kaku was quieter tonight.

Which honestly—
was more disturbing than the mystery itself.

“Ki bhabcho?” I asked him.

He looked at me for a moment.

Then lowered his voice.

“Tomra ki kheyal korecho…”

“Clue gulo amader jonno rekhe jawa mone hocche?”

That landed heavily.

Because we had all thought it.

Nobody wanted to say it first.

🧠 Arindam Da’s Theory Evolves

“Not specifically us,” Arindam Da said calmly.

“But someone capable of following patterns.”

“Someone patient.”

“Someone observant.”

I pointed at myself proudly.

“So basically… me.”

“Unfortunately,” he replied.

Ishani Di laughed softly.

And somehow—
that tiny moment of laughter helped.

Even briefly.

❤️ The Subtle Distance That Isn’t Distance

Back outside the dining area—
the sea breeze moved through the property softly.

I stood near the pathway pretending to check my phone.

Actually—
I was watching them.

Ishani Di leaned slightly against the railing.

Arindam Da beside her.

No dramatic conversation.
No cinematic confession.

Just presence.

But sometimes—
presence is more intimate than words.

“You’re worried,” she said quietly.

“About the clues?”

“No.”

A pause.

“About you.”

She looked at him.

Really looked.

And for one second—
Arindam Da almost said something more.

I could see it.

Right there.

Then—
footsteps interrupted.

Of course.

Subho Kaku.

“Cha pawa jabe?” he asked.

Romance defeated by tea.

As always.

🌌 The Night Deepens

Around 10 PM—
everyone moved toward their rooms.

Tomorrow’s plan:
Morning at Bharatpur Beach.
Glass-bottom boat ride.
Then ferry back to Port Blair.

Simple itinerary.

At least officially.

📖 The Diary Comes Out Again

Inside the room—
I locked the door carefully.

This time consciously.

Ishani Di placed the diary on the bed.

Arindam Da sat beside the table lamp.
Notebook open.

“Let’s reconstruct,” he said.

“Everything.”

I started pacing.

“Okay…”

“Cellular Jail → hidden cell.”

“Havelock → underwater symbol.”

“Radhanagar → coordinates.”

“Neil → initials.”

“Laxmanpur → missing page.”

I paused.

“Dada…”

“What if the torn page contains the final location?”

“No,” he replied immediately.

“Too early.”

“Then what?”

He looked at the diary quietly.

“Instructions.”

⚡ The Discovery

Ishani Di suddenly stopped turning pages.

“Wait.”

Her voice changed.

Sharp.

Focused.

We moved closer instantly.

She pointed carefully near the center binding.

Tiny fibers.

Uneven edge.

Not damage.

A page had indeed been removed.

Cleanly.

Deliberately.

“Holy…”
I whispered.

“Someone tore it out.”

🧠 The Timeline Problem

“Long ago?” I asked.

Arindam Da shook his head slowly.

“Not necessarily.”

That made my stomach tighten.

“What do you mean?”

“This binding isn’t very old.”

Silence.

“You’re saying…” Ishani Di whispered.

“The diary may have been accessed recently.”

No one spoke after that.

Because now—
the danger felt current.

Not historical.

👁️ The First Real Fear

I suddenly checked the door.

Locked.

Window.
Closed.

Curtains moving slightly from AC airflow.

Still—
uneasy.

“Okay… now I officially don’t like this,” I muttered.

“Good,” Arindam Da replied calmly.

“Fear makes people alert.”

“Thank you, motivational monk.”

Even he smiled faintly at that.

🌧️ The Power Flicker

And then—

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then stable again.

But in that brief darkness—
everything changed.

Because Ishani Di froze.

“Arindam…”

She was staring at the bag.

Her camera bag.

Half-open.

⚡ The Intrusion

All of us moved instantly.

The zipper—
was not where she left it.

I knew it immediately.

Because Ishani Di is precise with her things.

Always.

Arindam Da checked quickly.

Camera there.
Lens there.
Wallet there.

Then—
his expression hardened.

“The diary.”

Gone.

For one full second—
my brain stopped working.

“No no no no—”

I started searching everywhere.

Bed.
Table.
Chair.
Bag.
Floor.

Nothing.

“Someone entered the room.”

The sentence felt unreal.

👁️ The Sound Outside

And then—
footsteps.

Outside.
Running.

Arindam Da moved instantly.

Door open.

Corridor empty.

Only distant movement near the staircase.

Fast.

Gone.

⚡ The Chase Begins

“Rit!”

I already understood.

We ran.

Barely thinking.

Down the corridor.

Heart pounding.

Outside into the dimly lit pathway.

I caught a glimpse—
black backpack.

Same figure.

Running toward the darker edge of the property.

“STOP!”
I shouted.

He didn’t.

🌌 The Night Swallows Him

We chased.

Sand.
Grass.
Darkness.

Then suddenly—
nothing.

Gone.

As if the island itself swallowed him.

I bent forward breathing heavily.

“This is insane…”

Arindam Da stood completely still.

Thinking.

Always thinking.

Then quietly—
dangerously quietly—
he said:

“He didn’t take everything.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“He took only the diary.”

That meant—

He knew exactly what mattered.

🔚 End Hook

Back in the room—
silence felt heavier than ever.

Because now—
the mystery had crossed a line.

It wasn’t hidden anymore.

It wasn’t distant anymore.

Someone had entered our room.

Someone knew about the diary.

And somewhere in the darkness of Neil Island—

the missing page was no longer the only thing we had lost.

❄️ To Be Continued…