Seven months had passed since the blessed day when Aaravyan Singh entered the world under the celestial roof of the Dakshineswar Kali Temple. In these months, the once war-battered hearts of Raghav and Rashi had finally found peace, woven into the laughter of their little dramebaaz son, Arav.

The Singh house had transformed. Once filled with tension and holy rituals, it was now alive with the giggles of a child crawling behind curtains, the sound of clinking utensils from the kitchen, the gossip sessions of two women in love with chai, and Raghav’s complaints of his missing files replaced by baby bibs.