Kirit Thakur Chapter 1: The sky above Mumbai was a thick grey shroud as Arjun Sen stood beside the smoldering pyre, his hands clenched loosely around a copper urn still warm from the priest’s touch. The funeral had been quiet—his mother silent behind dark glasses, a few distant relatives murmuring awkward condolences—but Arjun barely registered any of it. His father’s sudden death from a cardiac arrest had stunned him into a kind of passive numbness. Only the sound of the fire crackling in the crematorium pierced the quiet of his thoughts. He’d never imagined this moment coming so soon, and…