The morning light was warm, golden, soft on the skin. But between Tanay and Ridhaan—it was frozen. Still. The air, like something left unsaid, hung between them, stretching thinner with every breath they didn’t take for each other.
After breakfast at the Suryavansh haveli, Tanay had quietly insisted he could go home on his own. He didn’t want the priest and the DSP to be seen leaving together. But Ridhaan didn’t speak. He simply tilted his head toward the jeep, a silent order, a refusal to be dismissed.
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