The rain had slowed to a quiet drizzle by the time Ruhanika returned to her chamber. Her saree clung to her body like a second skin—soaked, transparent, and heavy with the scent of monsoon earth. Her heart thundered in her chest, still caught in the storm of what had just transpired in the corridor and the garden. Rudra’s words echoed in her ears, his touch still tingled on her skin.
She stepped into the room, water pooling at her feet as droplets trickled down her temples and along her spine. She barely had time to untie the end of her saree before the door creaked open behind her.
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