In that massive room of the Haveli, only two things remained alive—the dim golden glow of a night-lamp and Manya’s slow, trembling breaths. Reyansh was in a deep sleep, but his masculine presence was spread across the entire room like a warm and heavy blanket. When Manya woke up, for the first few moments she felt as if she were still in that beautiful and intoxicating paradise where Reyansh had taken her a short while ago.

She felt her head resting on Reyansh's iron-strong arm. Reyansh's heavy hand, even in sleep, was clamped so intensely around her soft waist, as if even while slumbering he was standing guard to ensure his possession was not snatched away from him. Manya slowly turned her neck to look at Reyansh. That dominance, that rage which always burned like embers in his eyes, was nowhere to be found. His face now held a peaceful innocence. For the first time, Manya realized how lonely and quiet this man—who was the second name for death to the entire village—really was inside.