𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 -𝙈𝙐𝙍𝘿𝙀𝙍 & 𝙑𝙊𝙄𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙀𝙎

"Ram ram sathya hai... Ram Ram Sathya hai, " the mourners chanted, their voices rising and falling with the weight of sorrow as Prithvi, Suraj, Deepak, and his brother Sanjay bore Padma's deathbed on their shoulders.

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the somber hum of grief.

Prithvi's face remained stoic, a stark contrast to the tear-streaked faces around him.

He did not weep, nor did he betray any hint of sadness. His expression was hard, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

The village watched him, some in awe of his composure, others whispering among themselves about his unyielding demeanor.

While the others mourned, Prithvi's mind was a tumult of dark thoughts. The memory of Padma's last moments flickered in his mind, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The weight of her death, and the truth behind it, was a burden he carried alone. Only he knew the full extent of Padma's machinations and the lengths he had gone to end them.

Yet, as he walked through the village, surrounded by the echoes of grief, he gave nothing away.

The procession reached the cremation ground, where the pyre awaited. The air was thick with the smell of burning wood and the acrid scent of smoke.

Padma's body, already half- burned by the flame caused by the accident, lay atop the pyre.

Prithvi, as the eldest grandson, along with Suraj, Deepak, and Sanjay, carefully placed Padma's body on the pyre, ensuring it was arranged correctly for the final rites.

The priest stepped forward, his voice solemn as he began the rituals.

Prithvi was handed a pot filled with water. He balanced it on his left shoulder, the weight of tradition and duty heavy upon him.

With each step, water dripped from a small hole in the pot, symbolizing the soul's journey from the earthly realm to the afterlife.

"Ram nam satya hai... Ram nam satya hai..." the mourners chanted, their voices blending with the crackling of the fire.

Prithvi took the first round around the pyre, each step measured and deliberate.

The priest chanted sacred verses, guiding Prithvi through the ritual. The second round followed, the water continuing to drip, marking the earth in a circle of farewell.

By the third round, the chanting grew louder, almost drowning out the sound of the flames. Prithvi's expression remained stoic, his face a mask of calm resolve.

The weight of the pot seemed to lighten with each step, the burden of grief replaced by the cold acceptance of duty.

As Prithvi completed the third round, the pot broke, its shards falling to the ground.

This signaled the finality of the ritual, representing the end of the earthly ties. The chanting reached a crescendo, a rhythmic dirge accompanying the crackling fire.

"Ram nam satya hai... Ram nam satya hai..."

Prithvi took the torch handed to him by the priest. The flames flickered, reflecting in his eyes as he stepped closer to the pyre.

With a steady hand, he touched the torch to the remaining unburned part of Padma's body.

The flames roared to life, consuming what was left.

The chanting continued, a rhythmic dirge accompanying the crackling fire. Prithvi stood back, watching as the fire engulfed the pyre completely.

The priest continued the final prayers, his voice steady and strong. Prithvi's grip tightened on the torch, his knuckles white.

This was the end of one chapter and the beginning of another, one shadowed by secrets he alone bore.

As the fire died down, the priest signaled the end of the rituals.

Prithvi handed the empty pot to the priest, who placed it beside the ashes.

The mourners began to disperse, their voices quieting to murmurs as they left the cremation ground.

Prithvi remained for a moment longer, staring at the smoldering remains.

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his actions settle within him.

With one last look at the ashes, he turned and walked away, the secrets of Padma's death buried in the embers.

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After the following the cremation ceremony, Prithvi accompanied his family to the Ganga Ghat for the final rituals. The atmosphere was somber, with the sacred river flowing calmly beside them.

Prithvi, who had already shaved his head earlier, observed silently as his father Deepak, his brother Suraj, and his uncle Sanjay, who had arrived after a long absence, underwent the ritual head-shaving.

At the Ghat, the sound of prayers mingled with the gentle lapping of the river.

The barbers, skilled in their practice, swiftly removed the hair of Deepak, Suraj, and Sanjay, symbolizing their mourning and the start of a period of spiritual purification.

Prithvi stood by, his expression stoic yet reflective, as the rites continued in solemnity.

After the head-shaving, the family members descended into the cool waters of the Ganga, immersed themselves, and performed ablutions, seeking solace and spiritual cleansing in the sacred river's purifying waters.

The ritual bath marked a profound moment of closure and renewal amidst the rites of mourning and remembrance.

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After returning home from the Ganga Ghat, the mood in the haveli was somber.

A few elderly women were still crying softly, their grief evident. Kusum, Prithvi's mother, sat in a corner, her expression drained and weary from the day's emotions.

Her eyes were red and swollen, a testament to the tears she had shed throughout the day. Her presence added to the atmosphere of mourning that hung heavy in the air.

Prithvi noticed the subdued ambiance as he moved through the house, a stark contrast to the usual liveliness that filled these halls.

The loss of Padma had cast a shadow over everyone present, and despite the complex feelings surrounding her, there was a sense of emptiness that pervaded the household.

Prithvi entered his room quietly, the soft glow of a single oil lamp casting shadows on the walls. Tara lay motionless on the bed, her form barely rising with each shallow breath.

He changed swiftly into a plain dhoti, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the heavy emotions weighing on him.

Taking Tara's hand in his, Prithvi settled beside her, his touch gentle as he leaned in to press a tender kiss on her forehead.

He ran his fingers through her shaved head, feeling the stubble against his palm.

The room was filled with a solemn silence, broken only by the occasional sigh that escaped his lips as he sat there, silently watching over her.

"I did it, Tara," Prithvi whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of relief and sorrow. "I finally punished your first culprit."

As he softly kissed her forehead, his mind drifted back to the past, replaying the moments that led to this point.

His heart ached as he remembered the pain and betrayal they had endured, the schemes and manipulations that had torn their world apart.

The memory of Padma's treachery was fresh in his mind, but he had done what he had to for Tara and their son, Manik.

He gently caressed Tara's shaved head, his fingers tracing the delicate contours of her face. Sitting there beside her, he felt a storm of emotions surge within him.

Yet, in that moment, as he gazed at his beloved wife, he found a sliver of peace.

"𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴?" 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢.

𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯.

𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘭.

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𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘺𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

𝘚𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺.

𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵.

"𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺," 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥.

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𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘨𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘵, 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳, 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘻𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴.

𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘱 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵.

" 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘫𝘢𝘯𝘢.... 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘫𝘢𝘯𝘢..." 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘵, 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

"𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘫𝘢𝘯𝘢?" 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

"𝘓𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦!! 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦!!" 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘵, 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘈𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘨'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.

"𝘞𝘩𝘰'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?" 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘨, 𝘔𝘢𝘢𝘯𝘶, 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩.

"𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪..." 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨. "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?"

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. "𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴."

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 "𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘪."

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮.

"𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥," 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. "𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳."

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵.

"𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳? 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦."

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵.

"𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘭𝘦𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴," 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. "𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵."

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴."

𝘔𝘢𝘢𝘯𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘪𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.

"𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦."

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺."

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

"𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦," 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

"𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴."

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨. "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢. 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴."

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳, 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘥. 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘺𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵, 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳.

𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘶𝘱, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵.

𝘈 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘢𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝘛𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦.

𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘺.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳: 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵? 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴. 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳.𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘬.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴' 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘷𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘫𝘢𝘸𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺. 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘺.

𝘈𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘐𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘈 𝘮𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥-𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘥𝘦.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢, 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳?

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘫𝘢𝘸𝘴 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘪𝘤, 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢,

"𝘖𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴."

𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘥𝘶𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢.

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘗𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘢'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦-𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮.

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪'𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥. 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘑𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦.

"𝘉𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳," 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘦.

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥."

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘷𝘪 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘦𝘦𝘱. 𝘈𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘪𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴.

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"Aghhhhhh!!!" he screamed as the rod once again struck his back. In the closed dark room, the air was thick with the stench of sweat and blood. The light from a single mashal cast eerie shadows on the walls.

Several men were locked in a cell nearby, their faces etched with fear and helplessness.

They could only watch in horror as one of their own endured relentless torture.

Each blow of the rod echoed through the room, a chilling reminder of their own uncertain fate.The man being tortured writhed in agony, his body convulsing with each strike.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, and he struggled to remain conscious. Prithvi, a hulking figure, showed no signs of stopping.

"Tell me where is that bastard!" demanded Prithvi, his voice echoing through the dark, grimy room.

The man, bruised and bloodied, spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor, his eyes burning with defiance despite the pain. "Never," he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

Prithvi's patience wore thin. He grabbed a fistful of the man's hair, yanking his head back.

"Where is your Sarkar?" he asked once again, his tone colder, more menacing.

The man's body trembled under Prithvi's grip, but he remained silent.

The man's silence only fueled Prithvi's anger. He tightened his grip on the man's hair, pulling harder.

"You think your loyalty will save you? You're only making this worse for yourself," Prithvi snarled.

The man's breathing was labored, each breath a struggle against the pain coursing through his body. Still, he said nothing, his eyes locking with Prithvi's in a silent battle of wills.

Prithvi released the man's hair and took a step back, his expression a mix of frustration and determination.

He wiped the blood from his face with a cloth, his mind racing with the possibilities of where the Sarkar could be hiding.

He knew he had to break this man's resolve if he was going to get the information he needed.

"Fine," Prithvi said, his voice eerily calm. "If you won't talk, maybe your friends will."

He turned his gaze to the other prisoners, their faces pale with fear. The room fell into an uneasy silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Prithvi knew he was running out of time, but he also knew that fear could be a powerful motivator.

He needed to make an example, to show that defiance would only lead to more suffering.

"Who's next?" Prithvi asked, his eyes scanning the terrified faces before him.

Prithvi scanned the faces of the other prisoners, searching for any sign of willingness to talk.

But their expressions were a mix of fear and defiance; none of them were ready to betray their loyalty.

With a sigh of frustration, Prithvi picked up the rod again.

"Have it your way," he muttered under his breath.

He returned to the man he had been torturing earlier, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy.

The man's body was already a mess of bruises and cuts, but Prithvi showed no hesitation. He raised the rod high and brought it down with a sickening thud.

"Aghhhhhh!!!" the man screamed, his voice hoarse from the previous beatings.

Blood splattered across the floor, but Prithvi didn't stop. He struck again and again, each blow fueled by his determination to break the man's spirit.

The other prisoners watched in horror, some turning away to avoid the gruesome sight.

Prithvi's relentless assault continued, the man's cries growing weaker with each strike.

The room echoed with the sound of metal on flesh, a grim symphony of pain and suffering.

Finally, the man's body went limp, the life slipping from him. Prithvi straightened up, breathing heavily.

He wiped the blood from his face with a cloth, his eyes still burning with anger.

He turned to the remaining prisoners, his voice cold and commanding. "Anyone else want to keep secrets?"

The room was silent, the fear palpable. Prithvi's message was clear: he would stop at nothing to get the information he needed.

And if that meant beating every last one of them to death, so be it.

After beating up the man to death, Prithvi stood up, breathing heavily.

The dark room was silent except for the labored breathing of the prisoners and the faint dripping of blood on the cold floor.

"Clear this place," Prithvi ordered his men, his voice cold and commanding.

His men, used to his ruthless efficiency, quickly moved to follow his orders, dragging the lifeless body out and cleaning up the mess left behind.

Prithvi wiped his hands with a cloth, ridding them of the bloodstains, and turned to leave.

Stepping out of the dark room, he headed to the waiting jeep. The night air was thick with tension, and the hum of the jeep's engine filled the silence as they drove back to the haveli.

As the jeep bumped along the rough path, Prithvi's thoughts lingered on his quest to find the man he was searching for. He clenched his fists, the desire for revenge burning within him.

His mind raced with plans on how to track down the bastard who had orchestrated the atrocities and how he would exact his vengeance.

The jeep's headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead, but Prithvi's mind was elsewhere.

He thought about the men he had locked up, the ones who had played a part in Tara's suffering.

He envisioned their faces twisted in pain as he exacted his brutal justice, making them pay for every moment of agony they had caused.

Finally, the jeep pulled up to the haveli. Prithvi stepped out, his face set in a grim expression. He strode through the grand entrance, the weight of his resolve heavy on his shoulders.

Inside the haveli, the atmosphere was tense, a reflection of the storm brewing within him.

Prithvi knew that his quest for vengeance was far from over, but tonight, as he walked through the silent halls of his home, he was more determined than ever to find the man responsible and make him suffer the way Tara had suffered.

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Taking a last look at Manik, Prithvi gently kissed his son's forehead and turned to leave.

Entering his room, he gave a soft, lingering look at Tara, her unconscious form a constant reminder of his pain and resolve.

He then headed directly to the bathroom to take a bath.

The water cascaded over his well-built body, washing away the grime and blood of the night's events.

As the steam enveloped him, Prithvi closed his eyes, the weight of his thoughts and the determination to find and punish those responsible for Tara's suffering never leaving his mind.

After coming out, Prithvi opened the wardrobe to take out his dhoti. Water dripped from his wet hair and slid down his well-built torso, glistening on his abs.

As he rummaged through the wardrobe, his fingers brushed against something soft and unexpected. He paused, pulling out a small, knitted woolen sweater.

It was delicate and beautifully crafted, clearly made with love and care. He noticed several more, each one a different color, along with tiny socks.

Some were of Manik's size, their vibrant hues standing out against the dark wood of the wardrobe.

These were knitted by Tara for Manik and their unborn child.

Prithvi's breath hitched, his chest tightening with a mix of tenderness and sorrow.

He held one of the tiny sweaters close, his mind filled with memories of Tara working on these little pieces with hope and joy.

The sight of them now, in the quiet of their room, filled him with a deep sense of loss and longing.

Prithvi's gaze hardened as he looked at Tara, lying peacefully. Holding one of the tiny sweaters tightly, he felt a surge of cold determination.

"Now," he murmured, his voice a low growl, "it's time to work faster and get hold of that bastard."

His grip tightened on the delicate fabric, knuckles turning white.

"I'll make sure you suffer so much, you'll beg for death..." he vowed, eyes blazing with intensity as they remained fixed on Tara's face.

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𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙀𝘿...