The grey light of dawn was just beginning to bleed through the heavy velvet curtains of Shivangi’s bedroom, casting long, shadowy shapes across the floor. The city outside was waking up, the distant hum of early morning traffic vibrating faintly against the glass, but inside the room, the world was suspended in a quiet, exhausted slumber. The air was still heavy, saturated with the scent of sandalwood, sweat, and the lingering sweetness of their previous exertions.

Harshad woke first.