The morning sun poured into the room in soft streams, painting the bedroom in a golden haze. Aadhya stirred beneath the covers, her limbs stretching languidly, every muscle deliciously sore from the night they'd shared. The warmth beside her was not just physical — it was emotional, protective, intoxicating. She turned her head slightly, and there he was.

Rudra lay there, half-propped on his elbow, gazing at her with that maddeningly unreadable smirk — but his eyes betrayed the tenderness he tried so hard to hide. She caught a glimpse of it, raw and unguarded, and her heart gave a little flutter.