Next morning, sunlight sliced through the half-drawn blinds of Virat’s bedroom, painting sharp golden lines across the rumpled sheets. He woke slowly, head heavy from the late-night sexting, body still humming with residual heat. He reached for his phone on the nightstand out of habit.

The screen lit up with a notification.Vishisht’s birthday today. The words hit like a fist to the sternum.He stared at it, unblinking. The date stared back—his own birthday too, technically. Twins. Identical in every way except the one that mattered most now: one was breathing, the other wasn’t.Tears pricked hot and sudden behind his eyes. He didn’t fight them. Just let them gather, blurring the screen.