The haveli was quiet that night, the kind of silence that felt heavy, laden with unspoken words. Meera sat on the edge of the big four poster bed, the soft cotton of her kurta twisted nervously in her fingers. The day had been strange. A flicker of something ugly had passed between Arjun and Rohan, a subtle tension that she had felt like a cold draft in a warm room.
It had started with a simple thing. Rohan had brought her chai that morning, the way he always did, with a single jasmine flower on the saucer. A small, tender ritual. But when Arjun had walked in and seen her tucking the flower behind her ear, his jaw had tightened. He hadn't said anything. He didn't need to. His silence was louder than any accusation.
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