I step inside Rudra's mansion, and the world seems to hush in reverence.
The palatial foyer stretches before me, its marbled floors gleaming under cascading golden light. Giant crystal chandeliers drip opulence, their prisms scattering specks of brilliance across carved mahogany walls. Silk curtains whisper in rhythm with the breeze, and the faint scent of imported sandalwood drifts through the air, more polished than my polished life in Bangalore. Velvet lounges and sculpted furnishings speak of excess I've never known, but here, in the hush between grandeur and warmth, I sense Rudra's guarded heart waiting to be seen.
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