The corridor outside the guest suites was dim — golden marigolds drooped from brass vases along the walls, their scent cloying in the still air. The laughter and music from the sangeet echoed faintly through the distance, muffled by thick curtains and walls that had seen too much. Here, in this hush between festivities, it wasn’t silence that lingered. It was the echo of fear….And fury.

Ruhi’s heels clicked sharply against the marble as she walked, each step too fast, too uneven. Her chest rose and fell like she was drowning on dry land. She wanted distance. Air. Anything but the scent of him still burning at the back of her mind.