28 parts Complete MatureThere is a whisper of a Greek legend-the tale of Icarus, a man who fashioned wings from delicate wax and brilliant feathers. With these, he dared to become the first human to ever taste the freedom of the sky.
He flew. And as he soared, he saw the Sun-not as a distant star, but as a blinding, glorious presence. The man who had become the first to see the sun this close fell in love with it, utterly unaware of his own tragic destiny. It was a destiny that, in its cruel symmetry, always makes the impossible fall in love with possibility.
He flew higher still, intoxicated by the light, until the Sun's fierce, passionate heat began to melt the wax binding his feathers. He plunged, a beautiful and broken spectacle, from the sky.
But here is the truth, the bitter twist: I can't blame the Sun for his death. It was the wax that betrayed him, melting under a heat that is, after all, simply common to everything.
And so it is with Pranvijay's love for Mehboob.
His devotion became his wax wings, allowing him to fly too close to a person-a light-that was simply available to all. Mehboob's warmth was not meant just for him, and in his singular pursuit, Pranvijay became consumed.
It wasn't Pranvijay who was flawed; it was the sheer, destructive magnitude of his love that led to his fall.