The Mumbai heat had given way to a slight, breezy chill, signaling the arrival of a new season. But inside the Raichand mansion, a different kind of tension hung in the air.

Amyra was eight months pregnant. Her body was heavy, her back ached constantly, and her emotions were a volatile, unpredictable storm. She was sitting in the nursery, surrounded by pale yellow walls and expensive, untouched baby toys. In her hand was her phone, displaying a picture Kabir had sent just ten minutes ago.