The private cabin of the Rathore private charter hummed with a low, white-noise drone as it cut smoothly through the clouds at thirty-five thousand feet, tracking northwest toward London. The lighting inside the luxury suite of the aircraft was dimmed to a soft amber, casting long, peaceful shadows across the plush leather upholstery.

Shivanya lay fast asleep beside Abhimaan, her head resting securely against his broad shoulder, her breathing slow and even as exhaustion finally claimed her. Abhimaan sat motionless, careful not to disturb her, his gaze alternating between the digital flight map on the screen and the delicate rise and fall of her chest.