> Widows are meant to mourn. But I wanted to be ruined. He came the day after the funeral. Black sherwani. Gold cufflinks. Eyes so unreadable, I forgot how to breathe. He didn't offer condolences. He didn't speak my name. He only leaned down, placed a box of sindoor on the table... And whispered: > "Your husband owed me everything. Now, I'll take what's mine. You."
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