Aarohi sat in the corner of that enormous room, drowning in silence. She had nothing to do, no one to talk to. Each tick of the clock echoed like a reminder of her loneliness. Her eyes wandered aimlessly around the lavishly decorated walls, yet none of this grandeur could distract her restless heart. She was utterly bored and utterly alone.
Suddenly, the heavy wooden door creaked open. Aarohi’s body stiffened. In stepped an elderly woman, her hair streaked with grey, her posture dignified but hardened by years of service. She wasn’t just any servant—she was the head maid of the singhal family, the kind of woman whose word carried weight within the villa.
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