It was 5 a.m. The sky still carried the last shade of night, streaked faintly with grey-blue. A thin layer of morning mist clung low over the empty park track, dampening the air with its coolness. Dew shimmered on the grass, and the faint orange of distant street lamps glowed against the haze.

Rishi Malhotra’s foot thudded rhythmically against the asphalt, the sound sharp in the stillness. His breaths came uneven now, warm clouds of condensation escaping into the chilly air. Sleeves were pushed carelessly up to his elbows, veins taut and visible under the strain. The zipper of his running jacket hung slightly open, offering brief glimpses of his heaving chest with every stride.