The storm had finally broken, the air heavy with the scent of impending life and the metallic tang of blood. Hours stretched into an agonizing eternity. The room was filled with a frantic energy, a chaotic symphony of shouts, hurried whispers, and the urgent movements of the Dai Maa and her assistants.

Priya was lying on the bed, her face contorted in pain, her body thrashing with each relentless contraction. The delivery room, a world away from the silken luxury of her usual chamber, felt cramped and oppressive. This was her penance, her burden, the price she had to pay for a moment of weakness.