The Thakur haveli in Mumbai sat bathed in the amber wash of a dying sunset, warm light pooling across marble floors and gilded furniture — the kind of quiet, ordinary domestic peace that had settled over Yuvraj and Kamini's life in the years since Rudransh had grown up and walked away from them both. Crystal wine glasses caught the light. Somewhere outside, a koel bird called once into the stillness.

Kamini laughed softly at something Yuvraj had said, the sound light, unburdened — the laugh of a woman who believed her past had finally, permanently, stayed buried.