The morning after the fire was heavy with the scent of antiseptic and ash.
Aarohi sat quietly in the hospital room, a cup of untouched tea in her hand, while Arnav stared at the photograph lying on the table. The faded image looked innocent at first glance — but the longer they looked, the colder it became.

A woman held a baby in her arms, smiling faintly. Behind her stood two men — one was unmistakably Vikram Rathore, and the other… Arnav’s father, Arjun Rathore.