The morning sun filtered softly through the half-drawn curtains, spilling gold across the living room. The house smelled faintly of coffee, toasted bread, and the lingering aroma of last night’s dinner. Aadhya stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair, humming a soft tune she couldn’t remember learning. The curl of her hair caught the light, and Rudra, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed, couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He smirked, half amused, half… distracted. “You know,” he began, voice low enough that she thought it was just a whisper in the room, “you have this dangerous effect on people.”
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