The room feels unusually calm, as if the events of the previous day have left a faint aftertaste of silence behind. Morning light filters through the curtains in soft, uneven streaks, touching the edges of furniture and warming the coolness of the floor.

Yuvaan remains asleep, his breathing steady and unhurried, his presence adding a quiet rhythm to the stillness of the space. Nothing disturbs him, not even the faint sounds of the city slowly waking up outside.