The Roy haveli shimmered under the Bengal noon, its marble walls gleaming with a cold elegance that deepened my unease. My body ached from the morning's labor, my hands trembling as I balanced a tray of brass cups in the kitchen, the strain of grinding spices and scrubbing pots wearing me thin. The heat from the stove clung to my skin as I prepared chai, my arms heavy from washing linens. Chachi ji's voice sliced through from the courtyard, firm but not mocking. "Aradhya, bring the tea—don't keep us waiting."