33

33. ๐“๐ก๐ž ๐“๐ซ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก ๐๐ž๐ญ๐ฐ๐ž๐ž๐ง ๐”๐ฌ

The ceiling fan in the bedroom rotated with a monotonous, rhythmic hum, slicing through the heavy air of the humid evening.

Sritama lay perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the pale white expanse above, but her mind was a chaotic battleground of rushing thoughts.

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Chandiniwrits

Imperfectly perfect!