Vidhan was six months old now, a chubby bundle of curiosity who filled every corner of the Rathor house with soft laughter and babbling sounds. Yet between Niyati and Ranvijay, something quiet had shifted.

In the early months of their marriage, she had been timid in his presence even afraid of him so much, held back by the weight of his authority—the sharp edges of his discipline and the unbending calm that made everyone else tread carefully. Over time, though, her fear had eased. She had learned the rhythm of his silences, how his listening was often more eloquent than words. Gradually, she had begun to trust him with every small detail of her day.