Later that evening…
The golden light from the living room lamps gave everything a cozy, warm glow. The faint scent of sandalwood and detergent lingered in the air, and the walls echoed with tiny giggles and occasional thuds. Aadhya sat cross-legged on the thick beige carpet, back resting against the sofa, her dupatta slightly slipping off her shoulder as she scrolled through Instagram reels with half-focus.
Each story I write is a quiet labor of love — built word by word, heart to heart. Your support not only honors the effort behind every chapter but also empowers me to create more deeply, more often. If my writing has lingered in your thoughts, moved your heart, or brought you joy, consider becoming a part of this journey. Every contribution is a silent applause that helps the next story come to life.
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