The Raichand mansion was unusually quiet that day. Everyone was out attending to different commitments, leaving Saasha alone for the first time since her traumatic ordeal. The silence in the house felt eerie, amplifying the smallest sounds—the creak of a window, the ticking of the clock.

Saasha sat in the living room, running her fingers over the textured edge of a blanket. Despite the progress she had made in regaining her sight, she still relied on touch to navigate her surroundings. She told herself she was safe, but a strange unease lingered in her chest.