The fifth day passed in a haze of heat and secret ache. Priya moved through the haveli like a proper daughter-in-law—serving tea, folding laundry, speaking softly whenever Rohan or the remaining servants addressed her. But every time she sat, she felt the lingering soreness in her ass. Every time she walked, she felt the faint, sticky reminder of the thick load Vikram had left deep inside her the night before.

By late afternoon the house had grown quiet again. The last servant left early. Rohan returned from the office tired and soft-eyed, already talking about an early night. Priya smiled the way a good wife should and went to the kitchen to prepare a simple dinner of dal, rice, and roti.