The next day dawned with a soft, golden light filtering through the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting elongated shadows across the king bed where Ishani lay tangled in the sheets, her body awakening in layers of lingering heat and subtle ache from the previous night's emotional storm. At 23, the pregnancy had woven its magic through her veins in ways she couldn't yet fully comprehend—the tenderness in her swelling breasts making them feel heavier, more sensitive, every shift of the loose kurta against her nipples sending sparks of unwelcome arousal straight to her core, the faint roundness of her abdomen a warm, secret presence that made her hand instinctively press there as she stirred. The sheets clung to her damp skin, sweat from restless dreams where Virat's massive cock had plunged deep, stretching her walls in relentless possession, filling her with hot, pulsing spurts that left her dripping and marked as his, the sensation so vivid she woke with her thighs slick, panties soaked in fresh gush of arousal, her clit throbbing with the need for his touch. She sat up slowly, the kurta's fabric rasping against her hardened nipples in a way that made her breath hitch, the material tenting slightly over the pebbled peaks, her core clenching around nothing as memories flooded: his hands mauling her breasts harshly the night before one of his maulings, fingers pinching the nipples to bruising ecstasy while his cock ground denied against her thigh, pre-cum staining the sheets in sticky evidence of his restraint.