The golden morning light streamed through the tall windows of the Rathore mansion’s dining hall. The long wooden table gleamed, already set for breakfast. Silverware clinked softly as the house chefs and helpers placed fresh dishes — poha, parathas, chutneys, and tea — in their places.

At the head of the table sat Ambika, her hair a graceful mix of black and silver, her presence effortlessly commanding yet warm. Beside her sat Devendra, dignified in his crisp white kurta, reading the morning paper but half-listening to every conversation. Ayush, leaned lazily in his chair, scrolling through his phone, his face full of his usual mischief.