03

PROLOGUE

The air over the Banaras ghats carried the cool, damp breath of midnight, heavy with the fading scent of camphor, crushed marigolds and sandalwood from the Ganga Aarti that had ended hours ago.

Most of the crowd had melted away, leaving the sweeping stone steps soaked in an ethereal, golden quiet.

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A storyteller chasing the quiet between chaos and loveโ€”the kind that lingers long after โ€˜The Endโ€™.๐Ÿชท