The morning after their intensely passionate sixth anniversary night dawned softly, golden sunlight filtering through the gauzy curtains and bathing the bedroom in a warm, intimate glow. Rose petals from the previous evening's decorations still clung to the sheets in scattered patches, their fragrance lingering like a sweet reminder of consummation. Ishani lay nestled in Virat's strong arms, both of them gloriously naked, their bodies entwined in the aftermath of multiple, shattering climaxes. Her curvaceous form was pressed flush against his hard, muscled frame—her heavy breasts crushed softly against his chest, one leg draped over his thigh, her damp hair spilling across his shoulder. The mangalsutra rested between her breasts, the chain warm from their shared heat, while faint red marks from his bites and sucks dotted her skin like erotic badges of possession. Her chooda bangles lay discarded on the nightstand, silent for now.