Twenty minutes later, Kabir walked out of the conference room ten feet tall. Funding secured. He was going to buy that house in Dehradun. Hire the full-time nurse. Be a good son—starting tomorrow. He loosened his tie and pulled out his phone to call his father back. He wanted to share the news: Dad, I did it. The screen lit up. 4 Missed Calls: Dad. 1 Missed Call: Landline. 1 Missed Call: Security Guard. The elevator doors opened, but Kabir didn’t step in. The dopamine evaporated. Something cold and leaden poured into his stomach. He dialed his father. Ring… Ring… Ring… No answer. He dialed the landline. Ring… Ring… “Hello?” It wasn’t his father. A rough, hurried voice. “Dad?” Kabir asked, already trembling. “Is this Mr. Kabir?” the voice replied. “I’m Imran… security.” “Yes. Put my father on.” A pause—too long. “Sahab… you didn’t pick up. We tried calling. He fell. In the kitchen. We broke the door, but…” The sentence broke. And so did the universe.