Morning light filtered through the rain-streaked window of the Dakshinapur princess chambers, soft and gold after the night’s storm.

Sayoojya woke to the heavy, familiar weight of Adhiraj’s arm locked around her waist and the slow, steady beat of his heart against her back. Every muscle between her thighs ached in the most intimate way. The sheets beneath them were still damp from the night’s intensity. For a long moment she simply lay there, memorising the feeling of him—solid, real, and finally present after thirty days of emptiness.