Description

The evening air hung soft and golden, the kind of light that glistens like honey over the city’s edges—warm, but fleeting. Surya leaned back in the plush leather seat of their sedan, eyes half-closed, fingers loosely intertwined with Shivani’s. She sat beside him, one hand holding his, the other gently stroking his temple with her thumb—slow, rhythmic, deliberate. Her touch was a balm, a quiet promise whispered without words: I’m here. You’re safe. Rest now. The root of doubt—that gnarled, persistent thing that had coiled itself in the hollow beneath his ribs for weeks—had finally loosened its grip. Not vanished,