The master bedroom was bathed in the soft, warm glow of the evening sun. Two years had passed since the snowy nightmares of Pahalgam, and life had moved forward with a beautiful, steady grace. The house was larger now, filled with the expensive tastes of a successful professor and a famous bakery owner.

Diya stood in front of the tall, gold-rimmed mirror. She was 29 now, and the transition from her early twenties to the edge of thirty had turned her into a woman of breathtaking elegance. She wasn't just "pretty" anymore; she was stunning. She was wearing a heavy, royal blue silk saree with a deep gold border. The fabric hugged her curves perfectly, the pleats falling in a disciplined yet sensual line. Her blouse was sleeveless, showing off her toned arms and the soft glow of her skin. Around her neck sat a diamond necklace—a gift from Raj for her birthday.