The morning sun bled through the heavy velvet curtains of the Oberoi suite, casting long, golden fingers across the black marble floor. It was a cold, calculated room, designed to reflect the status of a man who ruled empires, but today, the light seemed to dance with a new kind of warmth.

Kabir stirred. His consciousness slowly clawed back from the deep, fever-induced sleep that had held him captive for hours. For the first time in two months, the biting coldness that usually inhabited his chest was absent. Instead, there was a lingering warmth, a softness in the air that didn't belong to the air conditioning or the expensive silk sheets.