- AUTHOR'S POV -

Chaya sat by the window the next morning, her fingers loosely wrapped around a cup of tea that had long gone cold, her thoughts tangled and restless as she replayed the events of the previous night over and over again. She couldn’t make sense of it—no matter how hard she tried. Yash had never behaved like that before. Not once in all these years. He had never questioned her whereabouts, never cared what time she came home, never even looked at her long enough to notice anything beyond basic formality… and yet yesterday—yesterday he had been different. Completely different. The way he had spoken to her, the way his voice had turned sharp and commanding, the way his eyes had burned with something she couldn’t quite name—it all felt unreal. Her brows furrowed slightly as she exhaled, her grip tightening unconsciously around the cup.