The voice that called out was feminine, but it wasn’t Sylvia’s. It was Raellyn.
Both men turned to each other instinctively, exchanging a quick glance that carried the weight of shared anticipation and perhaps a tinge of nervousness, before stepping toward the door that separated them from the women waiting on the other side.
That single door, so simple, yet so symbolic, stood between two worlds: the space of silent contemplation and the realm of warmth, scent, and familiarity. And as Arnav reached out and turned the handle, the door creaked open like a page in an old novel, revealing a scene both tender and unexpectedly grounding.
There they were. His wife and her sister in law, Sylvia, ,gathered around the modest table, carefully arranging plates and cutlery with a kind of quiet dilig
