The Sharma household simmered under a heavy dawn, the air thick with the scent of sandalwood from the morning puja and the faint clatter of Aradhya's chores in the kitchen. The sun's first rays pierced the courtyard, casting long shadows that mirrored the tension within the walls. Radhika's pregnancy, now a visible swell beneath her saree, was the family's beacon of hope, the promise of an heir that silenced earlier whispers of a second marriage. Yet, the sting of her deception—the poisoned kheer she'd blamed on Aradhya—lingered, fueling Vijay's distrust and Aradhya's quiet defiance.

In the main hall, Meena presided over the morning's preparations, her silk saree gleaming, her bangles clinking with authority as she sorted through household accounts. "Radhika's child will secure our legacy," she said, her voice firm, her eyes on Ramesh, who nodded gravely at the table's head.