The next morning, the palace had barely begun to stir. Sunlight filtered in through the jharokhas in soft golden shafts, and the scent of sandalwood incense still lingered faintly from the dawn aarti. Janhavi was making her usual way to the kitchen, intending to pass on instructions for the day's breakfast when she halted just outside the archway, blinking.

Bhavya was standing at the stove. She blinked. It wasn’t the fact that Bhavya was in the kitchen. That had happened a few times before, usually when she was hunting for snacks. It was the sight of her actually cooking that caught Janhavi off guard. Dressed in what looked suspiciously like one of Kairav’s oversized shirts, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair tied up in a quick bun, Bhavya was stirring a pot with focused determination.