The night was calm but thick with something unspoken. The Rathore mansion gleamed under a wash of moonlight — its marble floors catching the glow from golden chandeliers, its gardens whispering with the sound of rustling leaves. Dinner had ended, but the air hadn’t settled. Something lingered between the laughter and the quiet glances, something too fragile to name.
In the drawing room, Ishani fussed over the servants clearing the table while Rajveer leaned back on the couch, his face unreadable but his eyes fixed occasionally toward the main door — toward him. Rudra had returned. His presence had stirred the house like a gust of cold wind through still curtains.
Write a comment ...