authors pov

The man who roamed his room like it was his personal kingdom, never once bothering with a shirt, who walked out of the washroom draped only in a towel as if modesty was a foreign concept—today, that very same man stood clad in a pristine white kurta. Mirror work shimmered across the fabric, catching the light with every measured movement, while a delicate border of pink traced the edges, an unspoken harmony with Aadira’s saree.