Adrit Desai Chapter 1 The rain came down hard, blurring the neon chaos of Bandra’s streets into watercolor smears. Aaliya Mehra stood behind the counter of her quiet patisserie, La Madeleine, watching droplets slide down the glass like they carried stories. It was just past 9 p.m., and she was wiping down the last tray when the door creaked open. A man stepped in—tall, soaked, with a week’s worth of stubble and the disarming confidence of someone who never asked for permission. His leather jacket clung to him like second skin, water dripping from his fingers onto her freshly mopped…