The haveli was wrapped in silence, the kind that pressed heavy on the walls. Only the faint hum of the ceiling fan cut through the midnight air. Kartik pushed open the bedroom door, the old wood creaking, his broad frame slipping inside with a predatorβs quietness.
His body glistened faintly under the dim yellow bulbβbare-chested, only a white dhoti pant tied low on his hips. His muscles rippled with each step, every scar on his chest telling stories of the violence he carried like second skin.
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