1860, India Gauri was expected to be quiet, obedient, and invisible. But beneath her composed exterior burned a fire that no tradition could contain. Married into an orthodox household, she learns to hide every thought behind a lowered gaze—until Ashutosh, the man shaped by the same customs, begins to notice the silence in her eyes. When their hands brush across a lamp’s glow, something unspoken passes between them—too brief to name, too dangerous to repeat. Yet in that single heartbeat, the walls of the house seem to breathe. As shadows of duty tighten, and every glance carries the weight of consequence, Gauri’s courage begins to awaken the man who once believed obedience was virtue. What begins as a flicker of understanding becomes a quiet storm neither can contain. Step into 1860, where honour and desire walk the same narrow path, and where one woman dares to let the light beneath her veil burn bright enough to be seen. ......... “Kya kaha tumne?” (“What did you just say?”) His tone carried anger — but his eyes searched hers for something more. Gauri didn’t flinch. There was something in her gaze tonight… courage, perhaps, or a trace of mischief that refused to bow. She drew a slow breath, the corner of her lips trembling. “Maine kaha, Ashut—” The name broke midway, swallowed by the silence between them.