The rain had stopped hours ago, but the streets still gleamed with the sheen of water, reflecting the pale gold from the streetlamps like molten coins scattered carelessly along the road. In the distance, the hum of late-night traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog broke the silence. But here, in the narrow back alley behind the closed tea shop, the world seemed held in its breath.
Raghav leaned against the damp brick wall, arms crossed, his eyes sweeping the shadows like a predator. The weight of the evening hung heavy on him—too many loose ends, too many promises made in haste. His leather jacket, still damp, clung to his shoulders as if reminding him of the night's chill.
"You're late," a voice came from the darkness.
