The morning light filtered through the latticed windows of the haveli, casting golden patterns across the marble floors. Meera moved through her chores like a ghost, her body heavy with a strange, restless ache she could not name. Every time she bent to sweep the courtyard or carried a tray of tea, her mind replayed the night before—Rudra’s hot mouth sucking her breasts, the wet pull of his tongue, the way her nipples had throbbed and her core had clenched with unfamiliar heat. Her cheeks burned. Between her thighs, a persistent dampness lingered, making her shift uncomfortably. She felt changed. Marked. And the worst part was the tiny, traitorous flutter in her stomach whenever she thought of him.

She kept her head down, avoiding everyone. But Rudra was everywhere.