The next day, after breakfast was over, the heavy silence of the Agnihotri dining room felt almost physical. Plates were pushed aside. Napkins dropped. The morning ritual of polite family pretense finally came to an end.

Vardaan stood up from his chair, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp midnight-blue blazer with sharp, calculated movements. Without glancing up, he grabbed his car keys and phone from the table. His expression was carved out of solid ice. He turned toward Tanisha, his dark eyes devoid of any warmth.