Mumbai… Rajput Family Mansion…
Inside Maya room…
Vikram Das stood quietly at a distance, arms folded behind his back, gazing absentmindedly at the health reports in his hand. Maya, sat up against a set of soft pillows, watched him intently. Her body remained unmoving, still paralyzed all over, but her eyes—those eyes were sharp, observant, questioning.
Vikram's focus broke every few minutes. He'd glance at the report, then drift into silence, as if his thoughts were fighting some hidden battle far from the room.
Maya finally spoke, her voice soft but firm.
"What's wrong with you? You've been acting odd for the last two days. Did something happen?" Her gaze was unwavering.
Vikram walked slowly to her bedside and pulled the chair closer. He set the file down and looked her in the eye.
"Maya... are the weapons used by cultivators normal? Or do they have magical properties?" he asked.
Maya blinked, caught off guard.
