The silk sheets felt like a cage. Beside her, Rajesh slept soundly, his deep, even breaths a stark contrast to the frantic pounding of her own heart. The scent of him, of sandalwood and their recent, fervent coupling of the night clung to the air, a perfume of her betrayal. Anurag. His name was a ghost in the room, a cold specter watching from the shadows. Every touch from her new husband, every gasp of pleasure she’d stifled into the pillow, felt like a fresh stab of disloyalty. The weight of her wedding bangles felt like manacles.

Durga slipped from the bed, the cool marble floor a shock against her heated skin. Wrapping a shawl around her bare shoulders, she moved like a phantom through the silent, palatial home, her destination clear the old quarters where jadibudi the old lady resided who was like her grandmother.