Warm Massage

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 10:45:10 +0000

The morning light filtered through the carved jaali windows, scattering honey-colored patterns over the stone floor. The house smelled faintly of sandalwood and neem oil — the way it always did when Vijay prepared his medicines. Tara sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers fidgeting the end of her dupatta. She had never liked to speak of her discomfort, but her father-in-law’s quiet concern had sounded almost paternal, almost safe.