The drizzle had finally stopped, leaving Kharwa wrapped in a heavy, post-rain silence broken only by the occasional croak of frogs and the distant bark of village dogs. Moonlight filtered through thinning clouds, turning the wet fields into silver mirrors. Inside the haveli, the air felt thick with unspoken tension. Aarohi had barely slept for three nights, her mind replaying the courtyard kiss with Meera and Vikram’s punishing reclaiming of her body. The memory of his roar—“You’re mine, always mine”—echoed like a chain around her heart. Yet beneath the fear and the confusing heat he still ignited in her, a quiet resolve had taken root. She could no longer pretend the tenderness he sometimes showed erased the cruelty. The child growing inside her deserved more than a life shadowed by violence.
Write a comment ...