13

MRS. RANDHAWA

The sound of water ceased inside the bathroom, and a moment later, the door swung open. Shivansh stepped out in his nightwear, hair damp, his presence filling the room like a storm that did not need thunder.

Prarthna was still standing near the dressing table, weighed down by her heavy bridal lehenga. Her dupatta clung to her shoulders, her jewelry dug into her skin, and she looked like a statue carved out of exhaustion and fear.

Write a comment ...

ᴀᴋꜱʜᴜᴠɪᴋᴀ

Show your support

.

Write a comment ...

ᴀᴋꜱʜᴜᴠɪᴋᴀ

Every story I write is a heartbeat you can hear ✨