The third month did not announce itself with festivals or ceremonies. It arrived softly, settling into the house like a familiar breath—unnoticed at first, then suddenly essential. By then, Siya had stopped counting days the way she used to. Time no longer moved in numbers for her; it moved in emotions, in moments shared, in silences endured. And in that third month, something within her shifted, gently but irrevocably.

Her bond with her devars grew in ways that felt natural, almost inevitable. Vedarth, thoughtful and quietly observant, had begun to understand her without words. He noticed when she grew tired before she admitted it, when her smile lingered a second too long to hide the ache beneath. He would bring her tea without asking, adjust the curtains when the light bothered her eyes, sit beside her in companionable silence that never demanded explanation.