The early light of dawn spilled softly through the tall glass windows, painting the room in muted shades of gold and gray. The air was heavy with stillness — the kind that often precedes a storm. The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, and the sheer curtains fluttered slightly with the cold morning breeze.

Yug turned in his sleep, his hand instinctively reaching out — searching for Adhira. It was a habit formed over years; his body always found its calm when she was near. But today, his fingers met only the cold emptiness of the sheets. The space beside him was untouched — silent, still, and frighteningly cold.

A faint crease formed on his forehead as his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he blinked against the light, confused — until realization struck. Adhira wasn’t there.

He sat up sharply, the silk blanket sliding down to his waist. His eyes darted around the room — the faint scent of her perfume lingered, but she was nowhere to be seen. The bedside clock blinked 6:45 a.m. in soft red digits. Too early. Much too early for her.

She never woke up this soon. Not after the medication. It always left her drowsy, fragile. Every morning, he was the one who coaxed her awake with quiet patience. So where was she?