Ishani stirred in the narrow bed of her paying-guest room, the unfamiliar ceiling spinning into focus as confusion clawed her awake. How... college? The medical room? Her body ached with a deep, unfamiliar heaviness—breasts tender and swollen, a subtle nausea curling in her belly like a secret wave—but her mind raced: last memory the classroom floor rushing up, friends' panicked faces. The door creaked; her roommates hovered, concern etching their young features. "Ishu, you fainted—stress, the doctor said. We brought you home. Rest, okay?" No mention of the towering man who'd carried her like fragile glass, his tears hot on her forehead, his hand splaying protectively over the life blooming unseen in her womb. Virat's orders had been iron: Nothing about me. Nothing about the baby. Her friends obeyed the shadow they didn't fully understand, leaving her in the dark.