She had always been warm to those who worked for her — polite, calm, even on her worst days. That’s why, when Shefali Jariwala’s cook, Savita, stepped forward with her trembling voice and bloodshot eyes, the world paused to listen. What she remembered from June 27, the day Shefali collapsed and later died, may hold the very clue that the public and police have been searching for.

“She wasn’t herself that morning,” Savita began, her voice cracking. “Not rude… just distant. Quiet in a way that didn’t feel right.”

According to Savita, Shefali usually woke up early, greeted everyone with a sleepy smile, and had her usual warm water with lemon. But on June 27, she barely stepped out of her room until past 11 AM. “She looked… pale,” Savita recalled. “Not her usual glow. Her hair wasn’t brushed. And when I asked her if she wanted breakfast, she just shook her head and mumbled something about her stomach.”

This wasn’t entirely unusual. Shefali had, over the past year, battled a chronic illness — fatigue, headaches, digestive issues — though she rarely talked about it publicly. But what disturbed Savita most was what she saw next.

“She was holding a white packet — not the usual meds. A new one,” Savita said, her eyes scanning the room nervously. “She told me the doctor had changed her prescription. But the label looked different… foreign. She said, ‘Let’s try this one. Maybe I’ll feel better by dinner.’”

That sentence now echoes like a haunting final note.

Savita claims she saw Shefali take two pills before lunch. And that’s when things began to shift. “She looked disoriented… like she wasn’t fully present. She walked into the wrong room. She forgot what she had asked me to cook.”

Still, Shefali insisted on eating — something light: khichdi with curd. “She barely touched the food,” Savita recalled. “Then she went to lie down.”

The next part of the story has never been told — until now.

“At around 4 PM, I heard a thud,” Savita said, her hands trembling. “I rushed upstairs and found her sitting on the floor, back against the wall. She was holding her chest, breathing heavy. I asked her if I should call Sir [Parag Tyagi]. She said no. She just kept saying, ‘I need to rest.’”

Savita helped her onto the bed, adjusted the pillows, and stayed there for a few minutes. “She asked me to bring her herbal tea,” she said. “When I returned ten minutes later, she was asleep — or at least I thought she was.”

By the time Parag returned home at around 7 PM, Shefali was unresponsive.

He panicked. Called for an ambulance. Savita watched helplessly as he tried to wake her. “I heard him scream her name… over and over,” she whispered. “He was crying like a child.”

They rushed her to the hospital. But it was too late. Shefali Jariwala was declared dead on arrival. The news shattered the entertainment world, but for those inside her home, it was more than news — it was trauma.

Now, as investigators piece together the hours leading to her death, Savita’s testimony is being taken seriously. The pills she mentioned were seized by authorities for testing. Initial reports suggest that they may have been a new anti-aging or wellness supplement — one not prescribed by her regular doctor.

“She thought it was harmless,” Savita said, breaking down. “She said she just wanted to feel energetic again. But something about that medicine… it wasn’t right.”

Her words mirror what fans saw in Shefali’s last livestream just hours before: a woman trying to feel ‘normal’ again, joking about “pills that hit different today.” No one realized it was a warning.

Savita’s revelation now adds weight to growing fears surrounding unregulated wellness products. Social media is flooded with posts comparing Shefali’s story with others who suffered similar reactions to imported supplements. Hashtags like #JusticeForShefali and #SayNoToFakePills are trending.

Parag, meanwhile, has not responded publicly to the maid’s statement. Those close to him say he’s too broken to talk, too shattered to revisit the details. But it’s clear the information may soon become key evidence in determining what really happened that day.

As for Savita, she continues working in the same house, surrounded by memories she wishes she could forget. “Every corner reminds me of her,” she says softly. “The way she’d hum songs while waiting for tea. Her laughter when the cat jumped on the kitchen counter. I still hear her voice.”

She pauses.

“But I had to speak. If I stayed quiet, the truth might stay buried.”

It’s a truth the world deserves to know. A truth that may finally bring answers — and perhaps, justice.

Because June 27 wasn’t just the day Shefali died. It was the day something went terribly wrong, and someone — perhaps a company, a distributor, a careless prescriber — may be responsible.

And it all began with a quiet morning, a strange pill, and a woman who just wanted to feel better.