After some day's,

The air in the living room was thick with tension, the kind that clung to skin and weighed down every breath. Seema’s family had arrived unannounced, their voices sharp and accusatory as they cornered Vikrant by the window. Her father, a towering figure with a stern gaze, pointed a finger at Vikrant’s chest. “You think you can just waltz into our lives and take control? Seema is not your property,” he growled, his voice echoing through the room. Vikrant’s jaw clenched, his protective instincts flaring like a wildfire. He stepped closer, his height matching the older man’s, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m not taking control. I’m keeping her safe. Something you seem incapable of doing.”