Rooh’s heels echoed faintly on the marble floor as she made her way toward the hallway. The energy of the Diwali party buzzed faintly behind her—laughter, clinking glasses, distant music—but all she could hear was the bass of her own heartbeat.
Just a few minutes ago, she had been standing near the entrance when her phone buzzed. It was her boss. The message was brief, almost too casual for its content: “Sameer Chauhan’s too drunk to drive. Drop him at his mansion. Keys with Reeti.”
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