The first light of dawn crept through the cracks in the mud walls, spilling thin gold across the room. The kerosene lamp had long guttered out, leaving only the faint glow of morning and the scent of smoke clinging to the air.

Ayushi stirred against the steady rise and fall of Manish’s chest. Her lashes brushed his skin, the warmth of his body anchoring her in a moment that already felt fragile. A sharp ache radiated from her hips when she stretched, the echo of his grip and his weight still carved into her flesh. The ghost of his fingers lingered along her waist, her thighs, like bruises of memory she never wanted to fade.