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“Ghosts?” he spat. “I killed you once. I can do it again.”

That night, Karan and Arjun sat by the well that was once their tomb. They were not the same boys who had died. They were something more—a second chance forged in pain. karan arjun

She told them everything. The betrayal. The murder. The mother who still waited, growing old by the ruins of their ancestral home. “Ghosts

An old woman sat on the steps, weaving a garland of marigolds. Her hair was white, her face a map of sorrow. When she looked up and saw the two young men standing before her, the garland fell from her hands. the garland fell from her hands.