Note - waiting for comment 😔

The evening air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, a stark contrast to the turmoil within Ruhani's heart. She sat on the stone bench in the garden, her fingers trembling as she pressed a damp cloth to the bruise on her arm, a painful reminder of Atharv's latest display of dominance. The mansion, with its opulent grandeur, felt like a gilded cage, and Ruhani's spirit, once fiery, was now smoldering with resentment and a growing desire for freedom.