The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting long, pale beams across the pristine white flooring. Nandini sat on the edge of the bed, the silk sheets pooled around her waist. The silence of the apartment was absolute, broken only by the low, rhythmic hum of the air conditioning. She was twenty-four, a woman with curves that drew the eye wherever she went, her figure full and soft in the harsh light of the modern room. She glanced down at her body, the skin warm to the touch, and then felt the sudden, familiar dampness between her thighs. Her breath hitched in her throat. It was her period. In the home where she grew up, this had been a signal for immediate exile. Her mother would hand her a separate set of bedsheets, her voice dropping to a hush as if speaking a secret curse. Nandini would be confined to the far corner of the house, forbidden from entering the kitchen, barred from touching the prayer room idols, and forced to eat from a...
The next morning dawned bright and crisp, sunlight filtering through the penthouse curtains as Nandini stirred awake in the massive bed. Her body ached pleasantly from the previous night's tender preparations, a soft reminder of her husbands who can't jeep their hands to themselves. Maanav and Manik were already up, dressed in sharp suits that hugged their broad shoulders and tapered waists, their dark hair neatly combed. They leaned over her, each pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead and lips, their hands stroking her bare skin under the sheets. 'Jaan, we have an important meeting at the office today,' Maanav murmured, his voice deep and reassuring as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. 'But we'll be thinking of you every second.' Manik nodded, his fingers tracing her collarbone before pulling away reluctantly. We can't wait to come back to you.' With final kisses that left her lips tingling, they left, the door clicking shut beh...