𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳-𝘪𝘯-𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

"𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦? 𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦," 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯.

"𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?" 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

"𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦," 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥. "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯?"

"𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘬𝘦. 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴," 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦.

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺?" 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦.

"𝘐𝘧 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘈 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳," 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦.

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦? 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦... 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮?" 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

"𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘮𝘢, 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘵? 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢. 𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘬, 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺," 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.

𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘬 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴-𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥.

"𝘑𝘈𝘉𝘙𝘈 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘬𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪... 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘢 𝘦𝘬 𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘩𝘢𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘑𝘢𝘢𝘯 𝘫𝘪𝘴 𝘔𝘈𝘕𝘐𝘒 𝘮𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘵𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘶𝘴𝘬𝘰 𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘺𝘢 𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘬𝘵𝘪 𝘮𝘪𝘭 𝘫𝘢𝘺𝘦 𝘨𝘪" 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭.

(𝘑𝘈𝘉𝘙𝘈, 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯... 𝘔𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘬, 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.)

𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.... 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵-𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘯... 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭... 𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵..." 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴.

"𝘌𝘬 𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘻 𝘬𝘪 𝘣𝘢𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘶.... 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘩𝘪 𝘣𝘩𝘪 𝘶𝘴𝘴 𝘈𝘈𝘗𝘈𝘕𝘎 𝘬𝘰 𝘢𝘢𝘱𝘯𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘩𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘫𝘩𝘢" 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴.

(𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵... 𝘐 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘋𝘐𝘚𝘈𝘉𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵-𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘯)

𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳-𝘪𝘯-𝘭𝘢𝘸'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘬.

𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘬 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

"𝘈𝘴 𝘐 𝘣𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢," 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

"𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦."

𝘈𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳, 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳-𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘳.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥.

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3 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 1 𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙠𝙨 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧.

"Hello, how is my beta now?" Kusum's voice, crackling through the telephone line, carried a heavy weight of concern.

Despite the distance separating them, her worry was palpable, a testament to her deep maternal instincts.

"I'm a bit better now, Maa... Just finding it a bit tough to adjust to the cold here," Prithvi's response was laced with weariness, his voice strained from the challenges of navigating the harsh winter landscape of America.

It had been over 3 months since he left home, yet the bitter chill seemed to seep into his bones, a constant reminder of the miles that now lay between him and his loved ones.

"How is everyone else back home? You, Manik, and... Tara?" The mention of his wife's name softened Prithvi's tone, a flicker of longing and concern weaving through his words like a thread of sadness.

Tara, now 4 months and 3 weeks pregnant, sat beside the telephone, her heart heavy with a mixture of emotions.

As she listened to the conversation between her husband and mother-in-law, she couldn't shake the feeling of longing that gnawed at her insides.

Her hand instinctively moved to cradle her slightly bulging belly, a silent gesture of reassurance to the life growing within her.

The room felt suffocatingly quiet, the absence of Prithvi's warmth casting a shadow over Tara's heart.

She couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if he were by her side, if the weight of their separation would feel lighter.

As Kusum's voice crackled through the telephone, a wave of longing washed over Prithvi.

The distance between them felt immeasurable as he listened to his mother's words, each syllable carrying the weight of their separation.

"Everyone is good, you know today THE BABY KICKED FOR FIRST TIME,"

Kusum's voice, though filled with excitement, only served to deepen Prithvi's sense of longing. He could almost feel the warmth of home in her words, a bittersweet reminder of the life he had left behind.

"That's great, maa... I wish... I could have been there," Prithvi's voice wavered with sadness, the ache of missing out on these precious moments palpable in his words.

Despite the distance, their shared longing hung heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that transcended miles and oceans.

"Take care of yourself, Maa, and hers too," Prithvi's words were filled with a tender concern, a silent prayer for the well-being of his loved ones so far away.

"Take care, my son," Kusum's voice quivered with emotion, her heart heavy with the weight of their separation.

She longed to reach through the telephone lines and envelop him in her embrace, to shield him from the loneliness that echoed in his voice.

With a heavy heart, Prithvi gently replaced the receiver, the click resonating through the room like a solemn farewell.

He stood there for a moment, the silence weighing heavily upon him, broken only by the soft hum of the dial tone.

Outside, the world was cloaked in a blanket of pristine white, the snow-covered streets stretching out before him like an endless expanse of solitude.

The cold air bit at his exposed skin, seeping through the layers of his clothing and chilling him to the bone.

Wrapping the shawl tightly around his nose and mouth, Prithvi's breath formed a misty cloud in front of him, a tangible reminder of the bitter chill that enveloped him.

He adjusted his gloves, the leather creaking softly as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his long black coat.

Each step he took seemed to echo in the stillness, the sound muffled by the thick layer of snow beneath his feet.

The world around him was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft crunch of his boots against the frozen ground.

In the distance, the faint glow of streetlights illuminated the path ahead, casting long shadows that danced across the snow-covered ground.

Prithvi quickened his pace, eager to reach the warmth and shelter of his friend's apartment.

As he walked, memories of home flooded his mind: the comforting aroma of his mother's cooking, the shyness of his Tara, and the joyful innocence of their Manik. He could almost feel their presence beside him, their voices echoing in the stillness of the night.

But the reality of his situation soon intruded upon his reverie. Alone in a foreign land, Prithvi grappled with feelings of isolation and longing, his heart heavy with the weight of their separation.

He missed them more than words could express, each passing day only serving to deepen the ache within him.

He longed to be enveloped in their embrace, to feel the familiar touch of their love, but for now, all he could do was press on, his heart heavy with the weight of their separation.

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As Prithvi rang the bell, the door swung open to reveal Abhijeet's warm smile. Stepping inside, Prithvi greeted his friend with a nod before closing the door behind him, shutting out the cold winter night.

"Toh abhi Bhabhiji kaise hai?" Abhijeet inquired, making his way to the living room and pouring two glasses of drink.

( So, how is sister-in-law now?)

"Maa said that the baby kicked for the first time," Prithvi replied, his voice tinged with both excitement and longing. He shrugged off his long black coat, hanging it neatly by the door as he settled into a chair opposite Abhijeet.

"Congratulations! That's a great news," said Abhijeet. "Today, you have to give a shot with me."

As Prithvi settled into the chair, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness wash over him.

The warmth of Abhijeet's home was a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in his heart since his arrival in America.

Despite the comfort of his friend's company, Prithvi couldn't shake the feeling of loneliness that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

Taking a sip of the drink Abhijeet had poured, Prithvi forced a smile, trying to mask the ache he felt deep inside.

He longed for the familiar sights and sounds of home, for the comfort of his family's embrace, but here in this foreign land, he felt more alone than ever.

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As the night deepened and the amber liquid flowed freely, the weight in Prithvi's chest seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment.

Despite his efforts to maintain a facade of composure, the alcohol loosened the tight grip he held on his emotions, revealing the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

"You... know... Prithvi... You have... ch... changed... aaa... lottt..." Abhijeet's words stumbled out, muddled by the alcohol clouding his mind.

Furrowing his brows, Prithvi struggled to focus through the haze of intoxication. "H-how?" he managed to utter, his voice barely audible above the din of their inebriation.

"First... hi-how you used to be... sooo innocent... soooooo soft... and nowww... loook at yourself," Abhijeet's words tumbled out in a drunken jumble, his attempts at articulation faltering in the grip of intoxication.

Prithvi's heart clenched at Abhijeet's observation, a wave of melancholy crashing over him.

He couldn't deny the truth in his friend's words, the hardships and challenges he had endured had left their mark, sculpting him into someone he scarcely recognized.

Beneath the veneer of strength and resilience, Prithvi longed for the simplicity and purity of his former self, a time when life's burdens had yet to weigh so heavily upon him.

"Buttt whattt youuu can alsoo doo unclee never sa-supportedd you... Iff such thing had happenedd then you would havee coompleted yoourr Phd and yuu- youur name would contain Dr. thenn we would have called youu Dr. - Dr. Prithvii Singhh Rathoreee,not onlyy thaat, but you would haave become a great doctorr because you have that talentt and passionn"

Abhijeet's words stumbled out, punctuated by the slurred cadence of drunkenness.

(But what you can also do, uncle never supported you... If such a thing had happened, then you would have completed your Ph.D., and your name would contain 'Dr.' Then, we would have called you Dr. Prithvi Singh Rathore. Not only that, but you would have become a great doctor because you have that talent and passion)

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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬, 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦-𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴.

"𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘣, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴; 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴,"

"𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦; 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘢𝘺, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘶𝘴. 𝘉𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭," 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘮.

𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦,

"𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯," 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.

"𝘔𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴."

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, "𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘣, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺-"

"𝘌𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩," 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. "𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺."

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦.

𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦.

𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘤𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘦.

"𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴," 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦.

𝘐𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺.

"𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘦? 𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴!" 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.

𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯.

"𝘕... 𝘕𝘰," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮.

"𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦!" 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥

" 𝘕...𝘕𝘰 " 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦.

" 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 !"

" 𝘕𝘰.𝘯𝘰." 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦 .

" 𝘎𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 !" 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭.

𝘠𝘦𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘳, 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘬𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.

"𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢, 𝘱𝘢𝘥𝘩𝘢𝘪 𝘬𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢!!!" 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮.

(𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺, 𝘩𝘶𝘩? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺!)

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘬𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.

"𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘢, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘪𝘵!!" 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭.

𝘜𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.

𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘨, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱.

"𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴!" 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴.

"𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘢... 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘢... 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦," 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘺, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘵, 𝘸𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘶𝘭𝘭, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥.

"𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪!" 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.

"𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱," 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝘑𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 , 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

"𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘢, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮... 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺, 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘢... 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴, 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘢?" 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘴𝘦𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘨.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮

" 𝘈𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢!!" 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

"𝘑𝘢𝘺..." 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥.

"𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰," 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬'𝘴 𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦.

𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦, 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮, 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘪 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.

"𝘑𝘢𝘺... 𝘑𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘢... 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪... 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘢, 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴... 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱!" 𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮'𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

"𝘒𝘢𝘩𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘺𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘣 𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘣... 𝘒𝘰𝘪 𝘢𝘢𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘺𝘦," 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘺.

(𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 ... 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 !!!)

𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

𝘒𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘮'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

"𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮?" 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘺𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.

𝘔𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘑𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺, 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘛𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘑𝘢𝘺'𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴, 𝘑𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺.

"𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘴𝘩𝘪, 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦, 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴," 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦.

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The dreams he had once held so dear, the aspirations that had driven him forward, now seemed like distant echoes of a past life.

Closing his eyes briefly, Prithvi took a deep breath, trying to push aside the weight of his regrets.

In the dim light of the room, memories of his academic ambitions flickered like distant stars in the night sky, overshadowed by the harsh realities of his present circumstances.

"Yooou're rigght, Abhijeeeet," Prithvi's voice wavered slightly, the admission of his own shortcomings a bitter pill to swallow. "I let go of my dreams a long time ago... The pastt... Thee past affectedd my preesent tooo..."

"Shaskhi... what she did..." Prithvi's voice faltered, the anguish of past betrayals still etched deep within his soul. "I vowed never to love any woman anymore... The pain... For Manik only, I married Tara... Because....I...I have....seen....my boy... My Manik.....seeing other .....children with their ......mothers, being fed from their.......mothers' hands.... He also longed for maternal love. And at that moment, I decided......that I will not let her......play with my emotions and acted like a bastard with her..."

As the weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, Prithvi's heart felt burdened by the weight of his past decisions.

The memories of past wounds reopened, flooding his mind with a tumult of emotions that he had long tried to suppress.

In the hushed stillness of the room, shadows danced solemnly across the walls, casting an ethereal glow upon Prithvi's bowed form.

His voice, laden with the weight of unspoken grief, wavered as he laid bare the depths of his soul, each syllable a poignant reminder of the fractured pieces of his existence.

"You know in those 5 months of....our...marriage ... I realized... that.. Tara.. Tara is... not like her... I decided... to change the phase of.. our.. relationship... I.. I wanted to love... her.. cherish her but... One.. One misunderstanding and... My anger... My anger....destroyed her... broke her... I... I.. Raped her...... She fears me.. And why should'nt she... Because.. I am a.. monster in her life.... I destroyed her life....."

His voice, a tremulous echo in the silent expanse, quivered with the weight of his confession, each word a testament to the torment that gnawed at his soul.

Tears, unbidden, traced silent paths down his cheeks, carrying with them the anguish of a heart rent asunder by the cruel hand of fate.

In the stillness that followed, the air seemed heavy with the weight of Prithvi's anguish, the room itself a silent witness to the raw intensity of his pain.

And as he stood there, his spirit laid bare before the universe, the echoes of his sorrow reverberated through the very fabric of existence, leaving an indelible mark upon the hearts of all who dared to listen.

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Tara leaned heavily against Kusum as they emerged from the bathroom, her face pale and drawn from the ordeal of vomiting. Kusum guided her to the bed, her movements gentle and reassuring.

"Slowly, Tara," Kusum murmured, her voice a soothing presence in the dimly lit room. Tara complied, sinking gratefully onto the soft mattress, her head spinning with fatigue.

With a tender touch, Kusum began to prepare a herbal concoction, carefully measuring out the ingredients with practiced ease. Tara watched her through half-closed eyes, her gaze heavy with exhaustion.

As Kusum approached with the glass, Tara obediently parted her lips, allowing the bitter liquid to slide down her throat.

The taste was unpleasant, but Tara swallowed it down without complaint, knowing it would bring relief.

Gradually, the effects of the potion began to take hold, and Tara felt herself drifting into a peaceful slumber.

With a sigh of contentment, she surrendered to the embrace of sleep, her body finally finding respite from the discomfort that had plagued her.

Meanwhile, Kusum busied herself with tidying up, her movements efficient and purposeful.

As she reached for the medicine box to stow it away, her eyes fell upon a small paper packet nestled in the corner of the drawer.

Curiosity piqued, Kusum retrieved the packet and carefully unfolded it, revealing its contents - a handful of tiny seeds.

Kusum's maternal instincts went into overdrive as she observed Tara's peaceful slumber.

With a gentle touch, she brushed a strand of hair away from Tara's forehead, her heart heavy with concern for her well-being.

Despite her daughter-in-law's apparent tranquility, Kusum couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

As Tara drifted deeper into sleep, Kusum carefully tucked the packet of seeds back into the medicine box, her mind buzzing with questions.

What could these seeds possibly be for? And why had Prithvi been keeping them hidden away?

The following morning, after Tara had eaten her breakfast, Kusum seized the opportunity to address the mysterious packet of seeds.

Sitting across from Tara, she held out the small paper packet, the contents glinting in the soft morning light filtering through the window.

"Tara, do you recognize these seeds? I found them tucked away in the drawer," Kusum inquired, her gaze fixed on Tara's face, searching for any hint of recognition.

Tara's eyes widened slightly as she peered at the seeds, her mind flooded with memories of Prithvi's peculiar rituals. "Yes, these are the seeds he used to give me, by crushing and mixing them in milk " she admitted quietly, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Kusum's curiosity was piqued. "Prithvi?" she echoed, a note of surprise creeping into her tone. "But why would he give you these seeds?"

Tara shook her head, her brows furrowing in confusion. "I'm not sure, Maaji," she confessed, her expression troubled.

As Kusum and Tara puzzled over the mysterious seeds, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a maid, her breathless demeanor betraying the urgency of her message.

"Thakurain , the midwife has arrived," the maid announced, her words cutting through the tension that hung in the air.

Kusum exchanged a quick glance with Tara before nodding in acknowledgment.

"Thank you, please show her in," she instructed the maid.

Moments later, the midwife entered the room, her presence bringing a sense of calm to the otherwise anxious atmosphere. With gentle hands and a reassuring smile, she approached Tara, her eyes filled with warmth and compassion.

"Namaste, beti," the midwife greeted Tara warmly, her soothing voice laced with kindness. "Let's see how our little one is doing today."

With practiced precision, the midwife conducted her examination, her skilled hands moving deftly over Tara's abdomen as she listened intently for any signs of life. After a few moments, she looked up with a smile, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"Your baby is very healthy and active" the midwife announced, her voice filled with joy. "That's why you've been feeling those strong kicks lately. It seems the little one is eager to make their presence known!"

Tara's face lit up with relief and joy at the midwife's words, her heart swelling with love for the precious life growing inside her.

As she exchanged a grateful glance with Kusum, a sense of peace washed over her, knowing that her baby was safe and thriving under the watchful care of the midwife.

As the midwife prepared to depart, she offered some gentle advice and words of encouragement to Tara, her voice soft and reassuring.

"Remember to take good care of yourself, beti," the midwife said with a warm smile, her eyes filled with kindness. "Eat nourishing foods, get plenty of rest, and don't hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. You're doing wonderfully."

Tara nodded, her expression a blend of gratitude and determination. She clung to the midwife's words like a lifeline, finding solace in her comforting presence.

"Thank you, Dia maa," Tara replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. With a final pat on Tara's hand, the midwife took her leave, promising to return for regular check-ups in the coming weeks.

As the midwife left the room, Kusum followed closely behind, her mind buzzing with questions. She approached the midwife with a sense of urgency, her eyes betraying her curiosity.

"Dia maa, can you please tell me, what are these seeds?" Kusum asked, her voice tinged with concern.

The midwife's demeanor shifted slightly, a hint of apprehension flickering across her features. "Why do you ask, Thakurain?" she inquired cautiously.

"I found them, and Tara told me that Prithvi used to give these to her," Kusum explained, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

The midwife hesitated for a moment before speaking, choosing her words carefully.

"Actually, Thakurain, for the last few months, Thakur Sahab has been taking these from me. These seeds are used as a natural method of BIRTH CONTROL," she revealed, her tone lowering to a hushed whisper.

"He instructed me not to say anything about this to anyone. But as you are taking care of Choti Thakurain, I felt I should tell you."

After the midwife's departure, Kusum found herself lost in thought, the revelation about the seeds weighing heavily on her mind.

Turning back to Tara, who was now resting peacefully in bed, Kusum couldn't help but feel a surge of over protectiveness towards her. She made a silent vow to herself to ensure Tara's well-being, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿....