17

Chapter 17

Six years later,

The mirror in her tiny bedroom was cracked down the side, just like her life. Ruhani sat on the edge of her bed, braiding her son’s hair. He giggled, and she smiled—only for him. Only ever for him. His name was Ishaan. Five years old. A riot of curls, big curious eyes… Vihaan’s eyes.

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Sonam Kandalgaonkar

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I write heroines who are curvy, plus size, simple, or plain because beauty has never been about one perfect standard. Beauty is always in the eyes of the beholder. A woman does not need society’s approval to deserve love, obsession, respect, and a powerful story.