The next day dawned with a soft, hazy light filtering through the penthouse blinds, casting golden stripes 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, four months pregnant, her senses were amplified to excruciating intensity—the subtle swell of her belly a warm curve under her palm as she stirred, fingers splaying protectively over the life within, feeling the faint flutter that sent a shiver racing down her spine to her core, her pussy clenching wet and aching even in the grip of fear from the dream's echo. The sheets clung to her damp skin, sweat from restless slumber making the thin nightgown transparent in places, the fabric sticking to her fuller breasts like a lover's sweat, nipples hardened peaks straining against the material, rasping with every breath in constant, erotic friction that made her thighs press together, slickness gathering between her folds in a slow, traitorous seep. Her core throbbed with the memory of Virat's hands on her baby bump night before, wetting her pussy that had her arching and moaning "Mama" like a forbidden prayer, the illicit rush of the word making his cock twitch harder as he devoured her neck, biting and nibbling the skin until hickeys bloomed purple, his beard rasping raw in sensual torment that left her dripping and desperate.