One month had passed, and the oppressive atmosphere within the haveli had thickened like a storm cloud. Priya, now five months pregnant, moved through the halls like a ghost, her presence a constant, silent accusation that Shashwat desperately tried to ignore.

He had thrown himself into his work, seeking refuge in the mundane details of managing the estate, anything to avoid the stifling air of the haveli, the veiled glances of the servants, the haunted look in Priya's eyes. He knew he was being cruel, that he was shirking his responsibilities, but he couldn't bring himself to care.