The sterile white corridor of the London hospital smelled sharply of industrial antiseptic and cold steel, a stark, clinical purgatory that felt miles away from the opulence of the penthouse. Shivering violently under the harsh fluorescent lights, Naina sat huddled on a plastic waiting room chair, her face stained with tears and smeared makeup. When Kritagya finally strode into the wing alongside Abhimaan, she scrambled up and threw herself blindly into his arms, the sheer terror breaking past all her conditioned defenses.

"K... Kritagya... bahut khoon tha," Naina whispered, her voice muffled against his chest as she shook uncontrollably. (There was so much blood.)