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8. Paper Rings

The mirror reflected a girl she barely recognized.

Ira Kapoor sat silently as the saree draped over her like an unwanted second skin. The color was pale pink—plain, unembellished, the polar opposite of the richly embroidered lehengas she'd once dreamed of wearing on her wedding day. There were no gold bangles clinking on her wrists, no shimmering bindis, no bridal glow. Just kohl-rimmed eyes hollowed by sleepless nights, and lips pressed into a line of quiet defiance.

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Zivaah

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I write stories shaped by emotions, quiet moments, and imperfect love. If my words stay with you or make you feel something, your support helps me keep creating worlds like these. ❤️

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Zivaah

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Writing stories — one at a time ❤️