Author

The heavy bathroom door clicked open, and Trisha stepped back into the master bedroom. She had changed into one of the options Naina had left for her-a soft, breathable ivory cotton saree with a simple, delicate border. It draped comfortably over her fragile frame, free of the stiff, suffocating weight of her bridal wear. Her damp, dark waves were wrapped securely in a fluffy white towel perched high on her head, and she was entirely lost in her own thoughts, busy tugging at the edge of her pleated pallu.