Hours ticked by in the stifling silence of Ishani's bedroom, the air still thick with the remnants of last night's forbidden storm—faint musk of sweat and cum lingering like a dirty secret only Virat and she would ever truly know. Ishani stirred finally, her eyelids fluttering open to the harsh reality of her ravaged body. Pain throbbed everywhere: her pussy sore and swollen from his relentless pounding, ass aching from the illicit invasion, breasts tender with bite marks hidden under the blanket. Cum flaked off her skin as she shifted, a sticky reminder of how he'd filled her multiple times, degrading her while she rode him, her virgin blood mixing with his seed in a filthy, passionate union. But the emotional wreckage hit harder—tears welled instantly, spilling over as she curled into Trusha's comforting hold, sobbing uncontrollably for what felt like eternity. Words failed her; her shyness amplified by trauma, she couldn't utter a single syllable, just buried her face in her mami's bosom, body shaking with silent wails.