The morning after the storm felt as if the Haveli itself had taken a deep, cleansing breath. The sunlight that filtered through the high arched windows of the master suite wasn't the harsh, demanding glare of the previous weeks; it was soft, golden, and smelled of rain-washed stone and blooming bougainvillea.

Nandini woke to the sensation of a slow, rhythmic heat against her back. Arjun was still asleep, his arm draped heavily over her waist, his fingers curled loosely against her stomach. It was the first time she had seen him truly at rest—the tension gone from his jaw, the deep-seated weariness smoothed out of his brow.