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The knock at the door comes just as Ravi finishes unraveling the details of your latest theory. Halloween night, the smell of pumpkin candles in the air, a makeshift crime board scattered across your living room floor. Ravi leans back on his elbows, lips twitching at something you’ve said, when the sound interrupts.

“Trick or treaters,” you murmur, rising from your spot.

The candy bowl is perched on the counter, nearly overflowing. You open the door to reveal two kids in wobbly witch hats and an oversized skeleton costume, their faces bright with glee.

“Look at you two,” you smile warmly, bending slightly to hold out the bowl. “A witch and a skeleton—very spooky.” They giggle as they dig in, their eyes darting from you to Ravi, who’s now appeared at your side.

But then you notice it—the parents. Two women lingering a few paces back on the sidewalk, their whispering too pointed to miss. Their eyes flick to Ravi, and something cold settles between your ribs.

“Is that… Ravi Singh?” one of them says, her tone sharp enough to cut through the crisp October air. Her friend shakes her head, expression twisting with the kind of disdain you’ve seen too many times before.

You glance back at Ravi. He’s leaning against the doorframe, one hand braced against the wood, his jaw tight but unreadable. His eyes stay on the candy bowl, like the whispers aren’t meant for him. Like they never are.

But you know better. You’ve seen how the rumors and accusations have bled into everyday life for the Singh family. Seen how Ravi shrugs it off until no one’s looking.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath, heat rising in your chest. But before you can say anything more, Ravi’s fingers brush against yours, anchoring you. His hand slips into yours—a silent, steadying plea.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, voice low and meant only for you. “It’s not worth it.”