Author’s POV:

Shivansh sank deeper into the couch, exhaling slowly as the dim glow of the chandelier cast long, wavering shadows across the living room. For the first time in hours, a strange sense of peace settled over him—a cruel, twisted kind of peace, the kind that came only after watching someone break. He knew Samriddhi wouldn’t be able to clean that massive, dust-choked room in thirty minutes. Not with her dominant hand burnt, swollen, and barely functional. That much was certain.