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The week had been a whirlwind of chaos and quiet, of action and guilt. Omkar had wiped out every enemy that dared cross his path, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake. Alastor was reduced to an empty shell, stripped of all power, while Shankar purged the hospital of those involved in illegal activities. But the victories felt hollow. The guilt weighed heavy on both men as they recalled Devi’s pain, her cries echoing in their minds.
Omkar’s nights were spent standing by Devi’s door, his heart aching as he listened to the soft instrumental music playing inside. He never stepped in, his feet rooted to the ground as if crossing the threshold would shatter something fragile. He stood there, silent and still, his head bowed in sorrow, until the first rays of the sun forced him to return to his cold, ruthless facade. During the day, he was the feared leader—aloof, calculating, and unrelenting. He barely spoke to his brothers, his words clipped and strictly work-related, creating a chasm between them.
No one, not even Priya or Dhruv, was allowed near Devi. Only the trusted doctors and Shankar could enter her room. The decision caused frustration among the others, but no one dared confront Omkar. Shankar stood by his side, justifying the isolation by claiming Devi needed time alone to recover.
Devi lay on her bed, her body weak but slowly healing. Her breathing was steady, her eyes closed as she drifted in and out of restless sleep. The week had been quiet for her; she focused solely on recovering, occasionally calling her parents after learning they had been involved in an incident following hers. She avoided all else, retreating into herself to heal both physically and emotionally
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