17

Under the sky

The heat hadn’t died down. It clung to the house, to their bodies, and especially to the glances Shanti kept throwing Rudra's way.

She had said little after returning from the mela. Her daughter was tired, Mr. Pradhan was half-drunk and out cold again, and Nandini had quietly returned to her chores — eyes still heavy with the earlier fire.

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Corrupted Monk

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