Vikrant left the room for his morning walk and workout in the village akhada. Samaira glanced at the mirror, pinning her dupatta neatly over her head. The bright red sindoor in her parting and the heavy chooda on her wrists reminded her of the new identity she had assumed overnight. She was no longer Samaira Chautala, the carefree girl of her parents’ home. She was now Samaira Hooda, the bahu of the most powerful family in the village.

As she stepped out of the room, the sound of activity grew louder. The kitchen was already alive with the clatter of pots and pans. Her mother-in-law, Savitri Hooda, was overseeing the preparation of breakfast, her sharp eyes inspecting every detail.