The penthouse was nothing short of breathtaking. One enormous room, with grand-scale everything, like something out of another world. The ceiling stretched high above, and every inch of the space felt larger than life. A stunning, otherworldly feel filled the air, almost staggering to the senses. But what truly captured the attention was the massive Bas Relief that dominated an entire wall — human forms, young and naked, carved into marble, swimming in a chaotic dance of clouds. The figures seemed to move, hypnotic and alive in the intricate stonework.

Nitya stood by the window, phone pressed to her ear, lost in conversation. Haider, ever the cool presence, was at the bar, expertly mixing drinks. Cricket, leaning back against a sofa, took a long drag from her cigarette, the smoke curling lazily above her head.

Ayan stood frozen near the entrance, eyes wide as he took in the space, the sheer extravagance of it all almost overwhelming.

Ayan: "Does she live here?"

His voice was soft, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

The room felt vast and hollow, like stepping into a dream that wasn't entirely pleasant. The muted glow from the intricate chandeliers above threw long, slanted shadows across the marble floors, giving the entire space a surreal, almost eerie feel. The cold air inside seemed to hum with the tension of secrets buried beneath all the opulence.

Ayan's eyes wandered, absorbing every detail. The furniture looked as though it belonged in a museum, all sharp lines and polished surfaces that reflected the dim light. The art on the walls felt almost too intense, each piece vibrating with life, as if they were meant to be seen but not touched, let alone lived with. His gaze drifted back to the carved marble figures in the Bas Relief—trapped, almost as if in some eternal torment, suspended between clouds and reality.

Cricket's cigarette smoke curled upward, disappearing into the high ceiling. She watched him from the corner of her eye, a smirk playing on her lips, as if she had already read his thoughts before he could voice them.

Cricket (casually, taking another drag): "Why?"

Ayan (still staring): "It's... different. Doesn't feel like a home."

There was a pause, the weight of his words hanging in the air. The penthouse was too pristine, too perfect. It lacked the warmth, the clutter, the imperfections that made a place feel lived in.

Cricket exhaled, the smoke spiraling lazily between them, the dim light casting shadows across her face.

Cricket (dryly): "Yeah. It's nothing like home."

Ayan turned to her, brow furrowed slightly. His voice dropped, almost to a whisper.

Ayan: "How does anyone sleep here?"

Cricket's lips curled into a wry smile, almost amused by his innocence.

Cricket (quiet, with a dark edge): "Who said anyone's here to sleep?"

The glow from the chandeliers softened as Nitya's voice sliced through the air, smooth and sharp like a blade cloaked in velvet. Ayan hadn't noticed her enter, but her presence was unmistakable. She leaned casually against the doorframe, her eyes gleaming with mischief, a slow smile playing on her lips.

The space around her seemed to pulse with her energy—an invisible force that commanded attention. The room itself, grand and imposing, felt like it was bending to her will.

"The whole universe is my home," she said, her voice low and almost teasing. "One night here, another across the ocean. Sometimes I fuck in America and sleep in Europe."

Her words hung in the air, the audacity of her statement drawing an uneasy stillness over the room.

Cricket, lounging near the bar, gave her a sideways glance, unfazed. "What's up, Nitya?" he asked, exhaling smoke in a slow, deliberate stream.

"Aj Laxmi, remember him?" she replied, her tone shifting to something darker.

"Home minister?" Cricket's brow furrowed slightly, though his voice remained casual.

Haider, who had been mixing drinks, paused for a moment. "Didn't we just clear his family murder case three months ago?" he asked, setting the glass down with a clink.

Cricket shrugged. "What's he done now?"

Nitya moved further into the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor, each step deliberate and slow. The dim lighting cast long shadows on her face, sharpening the angles of her jawline as she reached for a glass on the bar. She swirled the drink in her hand, watching the liquid catch the light.

"Fifteen farmers murdered," she said, her voice smooth but laced with an undercurrent of disdain. "And land grabbing charges. All pinned on him."

Cricket's cigarette hovered near his lips, frozen for a moment. "When did this happen?"

Nitya took a sip of her drink before answering. "Just now," she said calmly, as if discussing the weather. "I've already sent Vidya to handle the bail arrangements."

Cricket flicked the ash off his cigarette, a sharp flick of the wrist, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "Behanchod," he muttered under his breath, pacing a little. "Fine, I'll arrange for Nimrat or Shaurya to come in for the lucid run."

Nitya's voice cut through the air, cold and unyielding. "No. I want Ayan on this case."

Cricket stopped, turning to face her, incredulous. "Acha majak tha," he said sarcastically, narrowing his eyes. "But this isn't the right time." He paused, glancing at Ayan, who stood silent in the corner, absorbing the conversation. "The Home Minister, fifteen killings, and a land grabbing scandal? You want Ayan for this? The guy who's only done one lucid run in his life?"

The room fell into a tense silence. Even Haider, who had been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow.

Cricket shook his head, his disbelief evident. "You're kidding, right? You're going to put him on something this huge?"

Nitya stood her ground, her gaze unwavering. "I've worked with the best lucid runners. Yes, they're incredible at what they do. But I choose Ayan. I trust him, and once I've made my decision, I don't look back."

Ayan, who had been listening quietly, felt the weight of her words sink in. This wasn't just a task—it was a trial by fire, and he was in the middle of it.

Cricket smirked, his eyes flicking between Nitya and Ayan. "Dekho... I'm not saying he's not good," he began, his tone slightly mocking but not entirely dismissive. "I know you've got a great eye for talent, Nitya. You're a master at it." He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "But on a case this big? With a rookie?"

Ayan shifted uncomfortably but spoke up, his voice steady despite the tension. "Thanks for considering me, Nitya, and for showing confidence in me, but maybe Cricket's got a point here." He glanced at Cricket, acknowledging his hesitation. "This case is... massive."

Nitya, however, was resolute. Her eyes remained fixed on Ayan, unwavering. "Ayan can handle this case," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "I know Laxmi better than anyone. We have all his inside tracks, all the connections we need."

A brief silence fell over the room, the weight of her words settling in. The stakes were clear, and Nitya wasn't one to second-guess her choices.

Nitya pointed decisively at Ayan. "We have the best mind investigator in the city. Bringing in an outside investigator at this stage? Damn, we'd lose our edge."

Cricket raised an eyebrow, skepticism lingering in his expression. "Tell that to AJ Laxmi."

Just then, the phone on the bar began to ring, its shrill tone slicing through the charged atmosphere.

Nitya: "That's Vidya calling..." She glanced at Ayan, her intensity palpable. "So, are we taking this case?"

Ayan exchanged looks with Cricket, the weight of the decision settling around them. The atmosphere grew tense, filled with the gravity of their impending choice and the implications it held.

It's late. The darkness looms heavily as Ayan tiptoes through the apartment, careful not to disturb the quiet. He turns the corner, and suddenly—

Adya bursts out, her frustration spilling over.

"You left me all alone!" she yells, her voice echoing in the stillness. "I was going crazy thinking about where you went until Shaiyla told me you were gone. I told you this is all new for me; please don't leave me alone. I panicked! Four hours? You didn't even call."

Ayan holds up his hands, trying to calm her.

"Baby! Shh! Just relax," he urges softly, stepping closer. "I was at Nitya's place with Cricket and Haider."

His eyes glint with excitement as he continues, "I got a really great opportunity. It's a case involving the Home Minister, AJ Laxmi! That's why I had to go."

The weight of his words begins to sink in, but the tension in Adya's posture doesn't entirely dissipate.

Ayan felt the tension in the air as Adya's voice echoed through the dark apartment.

"You left me all alone!" she shouted, her frustration palpable.

"Adya... did you hear me?" he replied, trying to regain control of the situation.

"I was alone the whole time!" Her words cut through him like a knife.

Just then, Ayan's phone buzzed insistently, breaking the weight of silence that hung between them.

"I'll just come back... I have to take this," he said, turning slightly to walk away, his mind racing with thoughts of the opportunity ahead.

"You gotta be kidding, right?" Adya yelled, her voice rising in pitch, anger spilling over.

In a moment of sheer frustration, she hurled a vase to the floor, the sound of shattering glass piercing through the air.

Adya stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks, the broken pieces at her feet a harsh reflection of her shattered trust.