
The morning sun had barely breached the horizon when Arjun Singh strode into the widow's quarters of his haveli. His heavy boots echoed against the stone floor, each step a declaration of intent. Jaanki sat on the charpai, her dupatta pulled tight around her shoulders, eyes red from nights of weeping.
"Taiyaar hoja," he said, his voice low commanding. "Mandir chalna hai."




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