72."You'll Have A Choice. Death By your Own Hand... Or Death By Mine."

[3RD PERSON POV]

Brahma pushed himself up from the ground, his movements slow but steady. He didn't look around for support or even acknowledge the shock radiating through the crowd. Instead, he simply dusted off his clothes, his eyes trained ahead with an unsettling calm. Without a word, he walked back toward Krishna, his steps deliberate, almost as if they'd rehearsed this silent confrontation a thousand times before.

When he came to stand beside Krishna, neither man spoke for a long moment. Brahma didn't look at him, but the weight of Krishna's presence was undeniable, pressing against his own sense of guilt and regret. Brahma knew exactly why Krishna had hit him. Krishna had warned him, again and again, that Jaidev was dangerous, that his intentions weren't simply political. Krishna had insisted they take action, that they end this before it was too late. But Brahma had refused, choosing to believe there was some other way, hoping he could navigate around the violence and keep his family together.

And now, with his father gone, he was haunted by his own decision. He'd lost PKR, and every instinct told him Jaidev's hand was in it. But Krishna—he was more than certain. Krishna didn't believe in doubt; he saw things clearly, acted on instinct, and fought for what he knew was right, no matter the cost. Brahma's throat tightened as he thought of everything he'd lost because of his hesitation.

Still looking straight ahead, Krishna's voice broke the silence. "Sorry for that." His words were calm, barely audible, yet filled with unspoken layers—a strange mixture of regret and purpose.

Brahma's jaw tightened, but he responded just as calmly, "It's okay, chotey." He knew that hit hadn't been about the physical pain. It was Krishna's way of waking him up, of reminding him of the price of his indecision.

As Krishna and Brahma stood shoulder to shoulder, a silence heavier than the recent rain hung in the air. The crowd watched, breathless, struggling to comprehend what they'd just witnessed. Krishna had punched Brahma—Brahma, the powerful, enigmatic figure who commanded Andhra Pradesh with influence no one dared to cross. And yet, Krishna's fist had landed without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Even more startling was Brahma's response—no anger, no retaliation, just a calm acceptance as he stood beside Krishna as if nothing had happened.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, each hushed voice trying to decode this strange alliance. Sathyapriya's face was unreadable, her gaze fixed on the two men, yet her expression held secrets too deep for anyone to understand. No one could tell if she was angry, relieved, or even frightened.

But Jaidev's reaction betrayed him. Beneath the outward calm he struggled to project, his hands trembled ever so slightly, and a sheen of sweat gathered on his forehead. He tried to keep his gaze steady, but his eyes darted nervously from Brahma to Krishna. The presence of both men—especially Krishna, who was like a dark horse he couldn't read—was a threat he hadn't anticipated.

Jaidev's mind raced as he tried to piece together what little he knew about Krishna. He knew Krishna was beyond ordinary—a man with immense influence stretching across India. An unparalleled businessman, revered for his intelligence and almost supernatural foresight, Krishna was a figure Jaidev knew better than to cross carelessly. Brahma was formidable, yes, but Krishna was an enigma, a silent storm with unknown power.

Jaidev's mind spun with unease, his confidence fraying with each passing second as he stole glances at Krishna. He knew Krishna was the one who had quietly exposed his illegal activities in Nellore. Yet, Krishna's own name had somehow stayed out of the scandal, leaving no trace to implicate him directly. Jaidev had tried every avenue, every back channel, to uncover something about Krishna's past—something that would give him leverage. But every investigation led to dead ends. Krishna's background was almost too normal, too clean. It was as if his life before his meteoric rise was a blank page, meticulously scrubbed of any trace of vulnerability.

The deeper Jaidev dug, the more he became certain that Krishna was hiding something, that this man was far more dangerous than he appeared. Brahma was a force of influence, but Krishna was a shadow—a ghost with power hidden behind his every movement. And if there was one thing Jaidev understood, it was that shadows could conceal things far more potent than the most ruthless men.

Yet, despite his unease, Jaidev clung to one crucial advantage: Sathyapriya. As long as she was on his side, he believed he held the upper hand. She was the key to influencing the party, a shield against Brahma's ambitions. With her support, Jaidev was confident he could seize the CM position and secure his grip on power.

But what Jaidev didn't realize was that the game he thought he was winning had shifted the moment Krishna entered. In his quiet, calculated way, Krishna had already begun dismantling Jaidev's foundations, piece by piece, without needing to shout or posture. The game had changed, and the stakes were far higher than Jaidev could comprehend. The power he thought he was seizing was already slipping through his fingers, and he was only now starting to see the shadow of the man who would take it from him.

On the other hand Narayana Verma and Bangaram Naidu exchanged uneasy glances, beads of sweat gathering at their brows despite the cool air. The game for the Chief Minister's chair had just taken a drastic turn. With Krishna's unexpected entry, everything felt uncertain. They'd always calculated their strategies with Brahma in mind, believing they could manage him, outmaneuver him if needed. But Krishna's arrival had thrown their carefully laid plans into chaos. The fact that Krishna and Brahma were friends was a revelation neither of them had anticipated, and the implications made their stomachs sink.

The two seasoned politicians knew what Krishna represented. He wasn't just a powerful businessman—he held an astounding 70% of Andhra Pradesh's economy in his grasp. If they could secure his alliance, his influence and financial backing would make their path to the Chief Minister's seat nearly unchallenged. Yet, after long deliberation, they reached a grim realization: Krishna wasn't someone they could simply win over. He was too complex, too intelligent, and far too enigmatic. Even if he wasn't directly involved in politics, he held sway over Telangana, subtly dictating the political landscape without stepping into the limelight.

But one question lingered, gnawing at them. Why had Krishna allowed a corrupt politician like Vyra Venkata Swamy and his Jana Dalam Party to dominate Telangana? The answer lay in a web of family ties and alliances. Vyra Vasundhara, Venkata Swamy's daughter, had once been married to Satyam—a man with family connections to Krishna's father. It was a bond forged not in politics but in blood and tradition, a silent understanding that had kept Krishna from interfering in Telangana's affairs.

Narayana Verma and Bangaram Naidu knew Krishna could pull the strings to make or break leaders in an instant. The real question was whether he would exercise that power now, in Andhra Pradesh, and, if so, on whose behalf. With Krishna in the game, they felt like mere spectators, watching a grand chess match where every move was concealed in shadows. Their ambitions, once so close to realization, now seemed like castles built on sand, ready to collapse at any moment.

For the first time, they faced an opponent who was playing by rules they didn't understand, and in that silent acknowledgment, a chill of helplessness washed over them.

The pandit's voice quivered with urgency, slicing through the tense silence, "S-sir, please... It's getting late. We should begin the ceremony. Can someone tell me who will light the sacred funeral pyre?"

Before anyone else could respond, Krishna's calm voice broke the stillness. "Satyapriya will do it," he declared, his gaze resting on her, steady and unwavering.

At that moment, all eyes turned to Satyapriya. No one dared to challenge Krishna's choice; his presence commanded silence and obedience. Satyapriya felt an ache building in her heart. Her emotions were a whirlwind—she hadn't expected the man she felt an inexplicable connection to would be the friend of the person she despised most, her brother Brahma. A mix of betrayal and confusion stirred within her, yet she kept her expression stoic, refusing to let any hint of her inner turmoil show.

She glanced at Brahma, as if searching for an explanation. But Brahma remained silent, understanding Krishna's decision all too well. If he were to light the pyre, his secret identity as PKR's son might be revealed, something neither of them could afford at this critical moment. And if not Brahma, the logical choice would fall to Jaidev, PKR's son-in-law, but that was an option they could not accept.

So, the duty naturally fell to Satyapriya, PKR's eldest daughter. Krishna had shielded Brahma's secret while ensuring Jaidev didn't gain the upper hand.

Krishna's calm voice had settled the matter, and with a resigned determination, Satyapriya stepped forward. The pandit, having received Krishna's directive, quickly resumed his preparations, moving with an almost frantic dedication.

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[KRISHNA'S POV]

The night sky is a velvet canvas, with the moon hanging bright and watchful, casting its pale light over everything. Stars twinkle faintly, distant witnesses to the world below. I stand a few feet away from PKR's pyre, watching as flames rise and dance against the darkened sky, their red-hot glow reaching upwards as if defying the heavens. The heat of the fire is intense, yet somehow, standing here, I find it… comforting. A warmth that pierces not just the skin, but something deeper, settling within me.

All around, people have gathered, a somber crowd lost in quiet reverence. But for all their presence, there's an uncanny silence—a calm that might seem unnerving, even haunting, to anyone else. But here in the shmashana, the cremation ground, I feel an odd sense of peace. The quiet isn't hollow; it's deep, grounding.

I look into the flames, watching PKR's body consumed by fire—a soul returning to the earth, reaching for a peace I can't help but envy. Death. The ultimate, inescapable truth of this world. No matter who we are, from the day we are born, we walk toward this end. Life is a journey, beginning with the first breath and ending with our last. Along the way, people enter our path—some who stay and others who leave before the journey is done. And yet, all roads meet the same end.

Death isn't simply an ending, though; it's a gateway, the close of one chapter, the beginning of another. A truth so absolute, yet so misunderstood. People live in fear of this finality, clinging desperately to what they know. They forget that death, in its own way, offers liberation—a reminder of life's precious, fleeting nature.

The flames flicker and shift, whispering secrets only they understand. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the quiet deepen within me. Here, surrounded by death, I find an odd solace.

I stood there, unmoving, the flickering flames of PKR's pyre reflecting in my eyes as I contemplated death—its inevitability, its truth. For the longest time, I've understood that death is not something to fear. After all, I've already died once. Life is but a series of illusions—Maya—things we attach ourselves to, only to realize in the end, they are fleeting, like whispers in the wind. What I've achieved, the battles I've fought, the victories I've claimed, none of it really matters. It's all just part of the illusion of life.

I stood in the quiet of the night, pondering, when suddenly, an odd sensation crept over me. It was subtle at first, like a prickling at the back of my neck. I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. I scanned the area, but there was no one in sight. The crowd had scattered, leaving only the remnants of their whispers in the air. The pyre burned steadily, but my focus shifted back to the shadows around it, feeling something out of place.

And then, I saw them.

Two figures, black as night itself, standing motionless near the fire. The flames flickered around them, but their presence remained strangely unaffected. They were tall—unnaturally so— and from their silhouettes, I could make out the strange curvature of long, jagged horns on their heads. They stood still, watching me, their gazes piercing through the night with an eerie intensity.

For a moment, my heart stilled, the calm of the night shattered by a sudden rush of unease. They smiled—slowly, almost knowingly—as if they shared a secret with me, something I was not meant to understand. The expression on their faces was not one of malice, but something far more unsettling—something that transcended the normal limits of human emotion.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, but when I looked back, they were still there. My breath caught in my throat, and for a brief second, my heart raced. 'Was I hallucinating? Could it be the heat of the fire, the exhaustion of the night, playing tricks on my mind?'

I glanced around, but no one else seemed to notice. The silence around me deepened, amplifying the surreal nature of the moment.

My gaze remained fixed on the figures, their smiles growing more unsettling with each passing second. The very air around me seemed to grow colder, more suffocating, as if the world had shrunk to the space between me and them. I couldn't tear my eyes away, even though every part of my body screamed to turn and run.

'What the actual fuck?' The thought hit me like a bolt of lightning. My mind raced, grasping at fragments of reason. 'Could it be? Was I seeing what I thought I was seeing?'

'Ghosts? Spirits? No, that didn't feel right. The figures—these entities—were too solid, too real' My heart slammed against my chest, and a chilling thought suddenly gripped me.

'Yama-dutas'

The name felt heavy in my mouth, like it carried the weight of centuries, of forgotten truths, and ancient fears. Yama-dutas—the messengers of death, harbingers of the underworld. I had heard stories, whispered legends about them, but to think I could actually be standing in front of them, watching them smile at me? It was absurd, but the fear that coursed through me was undeniable.

I dared to look at them again, and that's when it hit me—I was sure now. Their forms, dark and shadowed, with those horns curling like the very embodiment of death itself. The smile on their faces… it wasn't kind. It wasn't comforting. It was knowing. Like they were aware of something I wasn't.

My mind spiraled, unable to grasp what was happening. 'Why are they smiling at me? I wondered, a chill running down my spine. Am I going to die?'

'I see Yama-dutas when I am going to die. That's what people say, right?'

The thought sent a shudder through my body, and for a brief moment, I lost my ability to think clearly. 'Is this it? Is this the end for me?'

'I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready. There were too many things left undone, too many dreams that hadn't been realized yet. I'm too young, I thought desperately. I still have so much to do. My girls… they're waiting for me. I can't leave them. I can't leave now'

My breath came faster, shallower. Panic clawed at me, my chest tightening with every beat of my heart. I wanted to scream, to run, but my legs felt like they were made of stone, frozen in place by the sheer weight of the moment. What is happening?

I tried to look away, to shake off the thoughts, but the figures remained, their eyes still locked on mine.

The world around me seemed to bend, twist, and pulse with an energy I couldn't understand. It was as if the very air I breathed had turned thick with an unnatural weight. My mind was racing, spiraling deeper into confusion, and just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, something happened.

The burning body of PKR, the once solid, lifeless form, began to glow. A pale, eerie light—faint at first, but growing stronger with each passing second—started to radiate from the flames that consumed him. The fire flickered as though it was alive, reacting to something beyond mortal comprehension. My eyes widened in disbelief.

And then—he got up.

PKR. But not the PKR I knew. His body, once solid and flesh, was now nothing but a transparent form. A ghost. A soul. His outline was faint, shimmering, and distorted, but there was no mistaking it. The impossible had just happened, and my heart skipped a beat in shock.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. 'What the actual fuck is going on?'

'It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I didn't want to see this. Ghosts? Spirits? No, no—this wasn't right. This wasn't part of the plan. Why can I see them?'

I turned my head, desperate to look away, but the figures—those strange, horned shadows—were still there. The Yama-dutas still stood watching me, smiling, as if they knew something I didn't. Their presence was suffocating, their eyes locked onto me in a way that made me feel like a bug under a magnifying glass.

'What's going on? What the hell is happening?'

Just as I was about to lose myself to the spiraling madness in my mind, I heard it. A voice—melodious, teasing, playful—echoed in my thoughts.

It was that familiar sound, a laugh I had heard many times before.

'Is it really you?' The thought hit me like a wave, and I instantly recognized it. The playful, teasing laugh that made everything seem absurd and lighthearted. It wasn't just any laugh. It was his laugh.

It's him. It's really him.

I looked up to the dark blue sky, as if searching for some sign, for some explanation of the madness unfolding around me. 'Whatever you are,' I thought bitterly, 'Stop this nonsense. Who the hell are you?'

But there was no answer. No voice. Just the feeling that something was very, very wrong. And then it came again. That laugh. Louder this time. A soft chuckle, like someone rolling on the ground, laughing at me.

I stood there, paralyzed. 'Is this really happening? Or was it my mind playing tricks on me, spiraling out of control? Was I losing my sanity?'

But the laughter didn't stop. It echoed in the air, growing louder, closer. It was a prank. I realized then. A joke, a cruel joke at my expense. The feeling of being the punchline of a cosmic prank—one that wasn't funny at all.

The world around me twisted in a dizzying swirl of confusion and dread. I couldn't tear my gaze away from PKR's transparent soul, hovering unnaturally above the flames. Those two horned figures, the Yama-dutas, still stood next to him, their presence as chilling as the void itself.

'What the hell is going on?'

I felt a sudden, deep urge to run, to flee from the scene. 'This isn't real. This can't be real' But my feet were rooted to the ground, my body paralyzed with fear and disbelief. I had to look away, but my eyes refused to obey.

And then, as if my mind couldn't handle it any longer, something shifted. The soul of PKR moved. Slowly. His lips parted, and I could barely make out the words that followed—though they cut through the air with startling clarity.

"Take care of my family... especially Satyapriya."

My breath caught in my throat. 'What?' I could feel the words sinking into me, like an invisible weight pressing against my chest. 'Take care of your family? Especially Satyapriya?'

'What the hell does that mean?'

I couldn't process it. The world spun around me, and I had to stop myself from collapsing. The implications of those words gnawed at my mind, unraveling my thoughts like a tangled thread. 'What did he want from me? What responsibility was I being handed now?'

Before I could think of an answer, something strange happened. The atmosphere around me... shifted. The soul of PKR and the Yama-dutas vanished into thin air, like they had never been there. The eerie, suffocating weight lifted, and the voices of the people around me began to return to my ears—normal, human, and real.

I blinked, disoriented, as everything fell back into place. The flames of PKR's funeral pyre continued to crackle and dance in the night air, and the shadows of those figures were gone.

I looked around, expecting to see signs of lingering supernatural presence. No Yama-dutas. No ghostly figures. Just the quiet murmurs of the crowd, the soft rustling of the night.

'What the fuck just happened?'

I took a deep breath, the rush of adrenaline fading as I tried to ground myself. 'I must have imagined it. It's all in my head' I thought, my pulse beginning to slow. I let out a shaky sigh, my hands trembling as I ran them through my hair, trying to steady myself. I should see a doctor. Maybe I'm losing my mind.

But even as I tried to convince myself it was all a hallucination, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply, irreversibly changed. PKR's last words still echoed in my mind, and I couldn't ignore the weight they carried.

'Take care of Satyapriya. What the hell was I supposed to do with that?'

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog that clung to my thoughts. I need to see a doctor. This isn't normal. Something's definitely wrong with me. But I couldn't shake the feeling of unease, of having glimpsed something that was never meant to be seen.

With a heavy sigh, I looked toward Brahma. He stood a little away from Satyapriya, his presence as commanding as ever.

When the news of PKR's death reached me, I had wanted to come here immediately—needed to. But I hadn't accounted for the questions, for the complications that would arise when the girls found out I knew Brahma. They asked me everything. How I knew him. Why I knew him. Why I was standing here now.

Damn it. I should've just told them the truth from the beginning.

But the timing wasn't right. I couldn't tell them everything. Not yet.

So, I told them a story. A version of the truth that was close enough to hide the real answers. I spoke of how I knew Brahma from business dealings, from past acquaintanceships. I kept it vague, weaving in enough details to make it believable without revealing anything too much. I had to be careful with this. There was too much at stake.

But that was only the beginning. As the questions continued, the story evolved. I couldn't stop myself from revealing more than I should have. About Brahma's true origins—his connection to PKR. About Satyapriya. About Jaidev, the man who, in my gut, I knew had something to do with PKR's death. And about the truth I'd uncovered regarding the Nellore case.

As I spoke, the gravity of it all sank in, and I saw the shock in their eyes. They listened, absorbing the weight of the truths I was sharing, their expressions shifting between disbelief, confusion, and surprise. I could almost feel their questions burning through me, but I pushed forward, recounting everything I knew. From Athreya's involvement in the case and team.

I can't keep hiding it. Not now.

It felt like I was opening a floodgate, revealing the dark undercurrents of a world I had been trying to understand. And as the night wore on, their questions grew sharper, more urgent, as they grasped the depth of what I had just laid before them. It took all night. My throat was dry by the end, and my mind was reeling from the pressure of saying everything out loud.

As the first rays of morning light broke through the window, I was ready to leave for Amaravathi. I had shared the truth with them all, and now it was time to move forward, but something in the air was different. The tension in the room seemed to ease, and I noticed the subtle glances they exchanged.

Anu, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, spoke up first. "We knew this was going to happen sooner or later," she said, her voice light and teasing, "when we saw that light in Satyapriya's eyes when you talked to her."

Ammu, always the more direct of the group, added with a playful smile, "But we're angry with you for keeping it all a secret. She's already married, Krishna. You know that, right?" Her tone was light, but I could sense the hint of frustration she had been holding back.

Before I could respond, Aamukta, ever the cutie with her sweet yet mischievous demeanor, flashed a thumbs-up my way. "But after knowing the truth about her and her… criminal husband, we're not angry anymore," she said, her eyes sparkling with understanding. It was as if the weight of the situation had shifted for them too, the complicated truths aligning in a way that made everything clearer.

I stood there, confused and yet oddly reassured by their words. 'What are they talking about?'

Raji, always the calm one, looked at me with a soft smile, as if she could read the confusion in my eyes. "Why are you acting surprised, Krishna? You already know what we mean," she said, her voice steady but filled with an unspoken warmth.

'I know what?'

I was still trying to piece it together when they all started smiling at me, like they had just shared a secret I wasn't quite privy to. I felt a strange mix of confusion and relief. They weren't angry, but they weren't exactly telling me everything either.

And then, in a moment of light-hearted surrender, I did what I always did when I was caught in an unexpected moment: I kissed each one of them. The gesture felt like it had been a long time coming—an unspoken way of showing my appreciation, my affection, and my understanding of what was between us.

With one last smile, I left them behind. Guntur faded in the distance as I drove to Amaravathi.

Now back to present I tore my gaze away from Brahma and turned to look at Satyapriya. She stood there near the pyre, her eyes brimming with tears that fell silently down her face. The sight of her grief hit me unexpectedly, the weight of it sinking deep into my chest. She was so beautiful, even in this moment of sorrow, and yet there was something in her sadness that made my heart ache.

I couldn't deny the pang I felt inside me. She was everything that was pure and lovely, but... she's already married. The thought cut through me like a sharp knife. My mind raced in a frenzy 'what was I thinking? I shouldn't be having these feelings. She was his wife, and there was nothing more to it.' Yet here I was, torn between my emotions and the resolve I had set for myself.

'No, Krishna. This is wrong' I shook my head sharply, trying to clear the clouded thoughts. 'You can't think like this. You're here for a reason. Focus.'

With a steady breath, I turned my gaze toward Jaidev. The man who had taken everything from her. He was standing a few steps away, his posture confident, but there was a shift in his stance as I approached him. I knew he could feel me there, the change in the air as I stood beside him. He was nervous, just slightly, but he masked it well, maintaining that arrogance I had come to hate.

Without a glance in his direction, I spoke in a voice that was calm, controlled, almost cold. "Feeling happy for your win, huh?"

The words hung between us, like a heavy weight that could tip the scale. There was no emotion in my voice, but I could feel the rage bubbling underneath.

Jaidev's words reached my ears, but I didn't flinch. He was nervous, I could see it in the slight twitch of his hand, in the way his posture stiffened, but he masked it with arrogance, trying to act like he had the upper hand.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice a little shakier than he intended.

I didn't even look at him as I replied, my voice low and steady. "Don't act in front of me, Jaidev. You know that I know everything already."

A flicker of surprise passed across his face before he quickly masked it with a smirk. "Good. I didn't expect less from you, Mr. Krishna Prasad. But what does it matter? Even if you know everything, I still don't know much about you. That doesn't change anything. First, it's Brahma, and now you're just an addition. Nothing more, nothing much."

I couldn't help but let a small, almost imperceptible smile tug at the corner of my lips. My gaze never wavered from Satyapriya, her silhouette against the pyre casting shadows on my thoughts. But the weight of Jaidev's words—the arrogance, the false confidence—was gnawing at me. He was playing his hand, but he didn't realize the game was already over.

I finally turned to face him, my voice as calm and steady as the storm within me.

"You're wrong, Jaidev," I said, the words cutting through the tension in the air like a blade. "First, you facing Brahma—Brahma, the creator of all things. But now..." I paused, letting the weight of my presence press down on him. "Now, you facing me. Krishna. The creator of creators."

The words hung in the air, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—just a brief flicker, but it was enough. The mask was slipping.

I stepped closer, my gaze never leaving his. My tone didn't shift; it was as cool and controlled as the dark sky above us.

"When the time comes, Jaidev," I said, each word deliberate, "you'll have a choice. Death by your own hand... or death by mine."

I let the words settle like a storm cloud, heavy and inevitable. Jaidev could posture all he wanted. But in the end, it was me who held the final say.

"You won't be able to outrun it," I continued, my voice soft but lethal. "Remember what I said. And remember it well."

The world around us seemed to fall into a hush, as if the universe itself was waiting for his answer.

I saw the sweat trickling down Jaidev's temple, but he fought it back with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. His words came, shaky but defiant: "But I see a different picture. As long as I have Satya on my side, neither Brahma nor you can do anything to me."

I couldn't help but smile, the kind of smile that didn't carry warmth but a knowing.

"You think so?" I said, my voice soft but sharp, a thread of amusement running through it. I didn't even give him a chance to reply before I turned away, my steps steady as I walked toward Satyapriya.

She stood there, near the pyre, her eyes distant, as if she were trying to escape something even darker than the flames before us. She didn't react when I approached—didn't even seem to notice my presence at first. My heart tightened, a strange ache building in my chest at the sight of her tears.

I stood there for a moment, watching her, before I finally said, softly, almost hesitantly, "Priya."

When I called her by that name, her gaze flickered briefly to me—her eyes bloodshot from crying, tired from the weight of everything she had been through.

I smiled, trying to lighten the air, though it felt almost impossible. "What? I thought we were friends, and I can call you that, right?"

But there was no response. She looked away, her face unreadable, her sorrow almost palpable. My heart sank, but I didn't let it show.

With a heavy sigh, I spoke again, my voice tinged with a quiet frustration that was hard to mask. "So, you're angry because I'm Brahma's friend?"

Her eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like time had stopped. Tears streamed down her face, leaving tracks of sorrow on her skin. She suddenly grabbed my shirt, her fingers trembling, as if she were holding onto me for dear life.

"That's the problem," she said, her voice breaking. "Why didn't I feel angry at you, knowing you're my enemy? Why... tell me, why don't I know what's happening? Everything is so messed up. Why is this happening? Why didn't you come before, when I needed someone in my life? Why now? Tell me, why do I feel this way?"

Her words tumbled out in a broken rush, the pain in her voice cutting through me. She was lost, confused, and I... I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do to make it right.

Seeing her like this, my heart clenched painfully in my chest. I knew I couldn't fix everything for her, but right now, she needed comfort. She needed someone to hold her together in this storm.

I gently placed my hand on her head, stroking her hair softly. My fingers trembled slightly, unsure of myself, but I did it anyway. I met her tear-filled gaze with a warmth I hadn't known I could offer.

"Don't worry," I said, my voice quieter than usual, but firm. "I'm here now. From now on, everything is going to be fine."

As the words left my mouth, I couldn't help but feel a strange tension inside me, as if everything I had ever known about myself was at war. 'What the hell am I doing, Krishna?' I thought to myself, feeling the confusion bubble up again. 'What is this? Why does it feel like I'm becoming part of her world?'

Before I could analyze it any further, my phone buzzed in my pocket, the sound slicing through the air, sharp and sudden.

I quickly pulled it out, my fingers shaking slightly. A message from Athreya flashed on the screen, and my heart skipped a beat when I read it:

'Mission successful.'

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips, a flicker of triumph in the midst of everything. Jaidev's downfall had begun.

But as I looked back at Satyapriya, still holding onto me with a quiet desperation in her eyes, I couldn't help but feel the weight of the decision I had just made. 'This is just the beginning, I thought. What comes next?'

I didn't have all the answers, but one thing was clear: nothing would be the same from this moment on.

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