The silence that followed Gayatri’s revelation was heavy, almost suffocating, as if the air itself had been sucked out of the grand hall. The faint fragrance of tuberoses and warm jasmine, meant for a celebration, now felt sickly sweet against the tension choking the room. Under the blazing chandelier lights, every face was frozen in shock.

“Is this true, Naina?” Naina’s mother asked, her fingers digging desperately into her daughter’s shoulder, her voice cracking with terror. “Main kuch puch rahi hu Naina… kya yeh sach hai? (I am asking you something, Naina… is this true?)”