He pulled the chair to the center of the room. A loop of rope hung from the ceiling fan. The loop passed through his head until it wrapped perfectly around his neck. Then he kicked the chair away. The rope around his neck tightened. His body struggled as his lungs gasped for air. His eyes saw the room becoming darker. He felt like his face was going to explode. As he suffered, all he saw was the living room door. There was no bang on it. Nobody came for him. Until he took the final gasp for air.

...

The rain was light that night. The tiny drops of water splattering on the nearby vehicles reflected the blue and red lights from the ambulance. The siren was audible till the next three streets. And why wouldn't it be? Sound travels further when it's raining.

Soon, the police arrived. A bunch of people gathered around the apartment. A few cops walked inside and climbed to the third floor. Everyone was evacuated from the floor. The door of room A308 was open, with yellow tape wrapped around the open entrance. There was text on the tape that said, "Crime scene".

It was not much of a 'crime' scene. They were looking at an obvious suicide case.

"Rahul was a good man, he would never do it", one of the residents of the flat said.

"I did see him depressed lately", another said.

"I can guarantee you, he had no haters", said someone from the crowd.

But the investigators did find something that might give a clue. There were many paintings lying around the house. Rahul was a hobby artist. But one painting seemed to not fit with the rest. There were paintings of animals, landscapes, and abstract art. But there was only one portrait. It was the portrait of Rahul's classmate. Her name was Anjali.

"We...