The sun beat down on Chudaipur with a heavy, ceremonial heat. Today was the day the village’s most cherished and carnal tradition would be fulfilled. The air itself tasted of cumin, sweat, and anticipation. For Riya, the weight of the red bridal lehenga was nothing compared to the weight of what was to come. The henna on her body—the intricate patterns Rudra himself had drawn across her breasts, stomach, and the soft skin of her inner thighs—felt like a map of her own surrender.