The night was unusually quiet in the Kapoor mansion. Too quiet for Prisha’s restless heart. She sat by the large window of her room, staring at the garden lit faintly by moonlight. Every shadow felt heavier than her silence.

It had been days since her marriage, days that felt like years. Every morning, she woke to a new wound—not on her skin, but on her soul. Riaan’s words, his mocking laughter, his cold stares—they were scars invisible to the world but raw to her heart.