PROLOGUE

The night was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below. The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft shadows across the dimly lit room. Vrinda stood near the window, her arms wrapped around herself, lost in a whirlwind of emotions.

"I am not his type." The thought had once been her shield—a reminder that their marriage was nothing more than a circumstance neither had chosen. But somewhere along the way, she had stopped believing it.

She had fallen for him.

For the man who had warned her not to expect anything, yet unknowingly became her everything.

For the man whose presence once unsettled her but now felt like home.

She had seen his silent battles, the way he carried his past like an unshakable burden. She had witnessed his restraint, his hesitations, the careful distance he kept—and yet, in his smallest gestures, she had found comfort.

On the other side of the house, Advait sat in his study, his fingers tightening around the glass in his hand. The liquid swirled untouched, his thoughts heavier than ever.

"I seek my identity in toughness, yet her softness draws me to her."

Vrinda was supposed to be a obligation he had to endure. But why did she feel like the only thing in his life that made sense?

Why did her quiet presence calm the storms within him?

He had built walls to keep the world out, yet she had walked right in—not demanding, not expecting, just being there. And now, the idea of her absence unsettled him more than her presence ever had.

She thought she wasn't his type.

She didn't realize—she was the only exception he had ever made.

As they stood on the edge of something neither could name, one lost in realization and the other in denial, fate had already begun to weave its story.

Will love be enough to mend the wounds of the past? Will Vrinda find her solace in him, and will Advait allow himself to be hers?

Witness their journey unfold...