The heavy mahogany door to the master suite vibrated with the rhythmic, agonizing protest of the bedframe, a metallic groan that fought against the muffled, frantic sobs emanating from within. The air in the hallway was thick, stagnant, and heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and the underlying, metallic tang of distress.

Inside, Meera’s voice was a shredded ribbon of sound, rising and falling in waves of terminal exhaustion. "Aarav, please... nahi, not there, please, it’s too sensitive, it hurts—please," she gasped, her plea dissolving into a high-pitched, jagged sob. "My breasts... you’re hurting them—bhagwan ke liye (for God’s sake), just stop for a minute, I can’t breathe!"