The first pale tendrils of morning light slipped quietly through the half-drawn curtains, bathing the room in a glow soft as whispered promises. Warm steam still curled lazily in the air where Vanni and Tarun had just emerged from the shower, their skin damp, glistening in the gentle sunrise. Wrapped in thick, white towels, they moved with an easy familiarity borne from the intimacy of shared moments, the quiet afterglow of their time together settling comfortably between them.

Vanni sat on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing absent patterns along the plush duvet. Tarun stood by the window, the sunlight casting a golden halo around his silhouette. His gaze traced the curve of her profile, the delicate line of her jaw, the faint blush that colored her cheeks—a blush born not merely of the steam but of something deeper, something tender and unspoken.