The morning after the revelation, the Haveli felt like a stranger’s house. Nandini stood by the window of the master suite, watching the rain lash against the glass. The monsoon had returned, the heavy grey clouds mirroring the suffocating weight in her chest.
Every time she closed her eyes, she heard it—the ghost of her own voice, high-pitched and innocent, calling Janaki to her death. “Janaki Kaki, please come...”




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