" What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."
-T.S. Eliot
In the enigmatic town of Kshaya lurks a figure shrouded in infamy: SHAITAN, the most wanted criminal whose true id...
Ashwath's voice exploded in fury as he stormed into his office, the door slamming shut behind him like a gunshot. His anger crackled like a live wire, his jaw clenched, and his fists balled tightly at his sides. He paced the length of the room, his shoes pounding against the polished wooden floor with the rhythm of a war drum.
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In a surge of raw frustration, he delivered a swift, punishing kick to the edge of his desk, sending a few papers fluttering to the floor. The sharp pain in his foot was nothing compared to the seething inferno of anger within him. His voice dripped with venom as he muttered, "He was right there, so damn close, and I couldn’t do a single thing to stop him."
The image of Bhairava's smug face danced mockingly in his mind, and it made his blood boil. He raked his fingers through his hair, his breaths coming fast and heavy, his body radiating frustration as though it would consume him from the inside out.
"Sir, please, calm down!" Ekansh's voice broke through the tension like a tentative knock on a door. He stood near the entrance, his face a careful mix of concern and determination as he tried to steady the storm that was Ashwath.
Ashwath turned sharply, his eyes flashing like lightning. "Ekansh!" His voice was a growl, low and commanding, the barely restrained fury palpable. He took a step closer, his tone dropping to something even more chilling. "I don’t care how you do it, but I need everything. Every goddamn scrap of information on Bhairava. His movements, his operations—everything! And while you’re at it, dig into his brother Dridhavir’s affairs too. I want every thread they’ve spun, every weakness they have."
Ekansh stiffened to attention, his spine snapping straight as he gave a firm nod. "Yes, sir. I’ll get it done within the hour." Without another word, he turned on his heel and exited, his hurried steps fading into the corridor.
The room fell silent once more, the air thick with Ashwath’s simmering anger. He leaned on the edge of his desk, his knuckles white as he gripped its edge, trying to tether himself to something solid. His thoughts were a chaotic storm, swirling with frustration and the sting of missed opportunities.
The sudden ringing of Ashwath’s phone pierced through the suffocating tension in his office. His brows furrowed momentarily before his gaze fell on the screen, where Ahalya’s name glowed softly. The smallest flicker of relief touched his face as he answered the call, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.
"What’s up, husband?" Ahalya’s voice came through like a gentle melody, warm and soothing, carrying with it an affection that seemed to momentarily melt the anger roiling inside him.
Ashwath leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply as though her voice alone had siphoned away some of his frustration. "Sorry, I lost track of time," he said, his tone apologetic but lighter now.
