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✨ Chapter 67: The Weight of Unspoken Nights

The days that followed blurred into one long twilight.
Meenal lay among the soft rustle of white curtains, hearing the house move around her as though through water. The koel no longer called; even the courtyard fountains seemed to hold their breath.

Her sari, once her pride, now flows loose like a river in the wind, the vibrant colors faded with each passing day.

She tried to remember the world as it had been—before the fall, before the word that turned her to stone.

But each memory carried a shadow she could not name.
Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, there came the faintest image: the scent of rain on dust, a lamp guttering in the storm, a hand—warm, trembling—against her cheek. Then it vanished, leaving only ache.

A voice chanting her name like a mantra, a hymn. She longed to hold those fleeting memories, to bring them to life—but they vanished, leaving only ache.

Rajveer told her to rest.
She nodded, obedient as a child, though her body felt foreign. Beneath her palm life stirred faintly, proof of something she could not recall.
Whose dream have I woken into? she wondered. Whose child listens inside me?