RUHANIKA'S P.O.V

The sound of my breath is the only thing filling the silence now. It's a sharp, jagged exhale that echoes against the high walls of our bedroom, sounding louder than it should in the sudden quiet Yukt left exactly five minutes ago. I heard the soft thud of his bare feet against the hardwood as he walked into the closet, leaving behind the heavy scent of his expensive soap and the lingering heat of his proximity. I don't move. I stay right where I am, lying back as the cool air hits the skin he was just worshipping with his lips. My gaze drifts upward, landing on the ceiling mirror—a feature of this room that used to feel scandalous but now just feels like a mocking witness to my reality.