The storm outside the Manali cabin was a white wall of chaos, but inside, the air was static, charged with a tension that felt like a physical weight. Sana stood by the hearth, the orange glow of the embers dancing on her silk robe. She didn't look back when the heavy thud of Sidharth’s boots echoed on the wooden floor. Five years of silence, and now they were trapped in a ten-by-ten room.

"Wine khatam ho gayi hai. Aur meri bardaasht bhi," Sidharth’s voice was a low, sandpaper rasp that made the hair on her arms stand up.