I lay on my side that night, staring into the darkness, listening to the soft rhythm of Saanvi’s breath. Her back was turned to me, her body curled slightly, her face hidden from my reach. She had fallen asleep amidst tears, anger, and longing—and I, her husband, the man who vowed to ease her every pain, had done nothing but deny her. My chest burned with the memory of her words, raw and broken, “What about me, Rudra? I can’t control it.”

I shut my eyes, but they stung. Sleep refused to come. The silence in the room weighed heavier than armor, heavier than the sword I carried in battle. My wife was just a hand’s stretch away, yet she felt farther than the stars.