The afternoon haze draped New York City in a golden-amber veil, its warm glow softening the sharp edges of Manhattan’s skyline as Haider sat in the dimly lit sanctuary of his penthouse bedroom. The silence was a heavy shroud, broken only by the distant hum of the city beyond his tall windows and the fierce throb of uncertainty pulsing in his chest. The room was a study in understated elegance—a king-sized bed draped in a navy throw, its crisp lines contrasting with the rich mahogany bookshelves that stood as silent sentinels to countless sleepless nights. A single brass lamp cast a pool of soft light across the polished wooden floor, illuminating a sleek ebony desk cluttered with leather-bound journals. Haider, clad in a white linen shirt unbuttoned at the throat, revealing a glimpse of ta
