The morning sun, a glaring orb in the smog-choked Delhi sky, was no match for the jet-black intensity of Yakshit Singhania’s gaze. He was a man with a thousand questions and no answers, all of them centered on one person, Anika Verma. The previous night, he had barely slept, his mind replaying every moment from her sleepy-eyed confusion to her quiet, composed presence in the boardroom. He needed to find out who she was, and if the ghost of his past, his Ruhaani, truly had a twin in the present.
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