The week had passed in a blur of routine, the familiar cycle of fear, submission, and the haunting emptiness that had become Rani's life. She slept on the cold floor, a thin bedsheet her only comfort, while Shashwat occupied the large, ornate bed, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the turmoil within her.

It was her last day of her period. The crimson tide that defined her womanhood was finally waning, and with it, a strange, almost forbidden longing stirred within her. It was not uncommon for her to feel a heightened sense of desire during this time, a primal urge that she had learned to suppress, to bury deep within the confines of her heart. But tonight, that urge was particularly strong, a rebellious whisper against the silence of her existence.