Om's POV
The Mumbai local screeched to a halt at Churchgate station, and Om dashed out, his long strides cutting through the evening rush. The air was thick with the scent of street food—vada pav, spicy chaat, the comforting aroma of masala chai—but he barely registered it. His breath came in ragged gasps as he maneuvered past office-goers, college students, and vendors calling out their wares.
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