The silence in the room was suffocating, more potent than any words that might have been spoken. The tick of the wall clock seemed louder than usual, each second stretching painfully long as if time itself were reluctant to move forward. The atmosphere was taut, like a tightrope strung between fragile hearts, ready to snap at the slightest pressure.

Kavya sat at the center of it all, her slender fingers curled into tense fists beneath the table. Her shoulders were squared in a posture of defiance, but her eyes betrayed her—wide, glassy, searching for an escape she knew no longer existed. She had walked into this evening thinking she could still control the narrative, still hold her secrets close and hidden behind a composed façade. But that illusion had shattered the moment Ashwin spoke.