Anant Mathur carefully placed his intoxicated wife, Rahi, on the bed and sat down on the edge, his gaze fixed on her flushed face. His palm gently rested on her warm forehead, trying to soothe her. It had been six months, he never witnessed her drinking, and he couldn't understand why she had suddenly left the cabin and consumed so much alcohol that she couldn't even stand.
Rahi mumbled incomprehensible words and turned her head, her blurry vision attempting to focus on Anant. Despite her weakened and drunken state, she recognized him immediately. His familiar scent was enough for her to identify him, even without clear vision.
"Anu," Rahi whispered, her voice barely audible, as she continued murmuring his name repeatedly.
Anant's frustration intensified, and he clenched his teeth in a
