My name is Hanshika, and at twenty-seven, I’m a woman whose dusky allure turns heads. People say my sharp features and sultry eyes could make any man weak in the knees. I’m tall, slender, with a delicate frame, and my narrow waist accentuates every curve, making me a vision from head to toe. On our wedding night, my husband confessed that when he first saw me before our marriage, my figure alone had him smitten. And when he gazed upon my face, he was utterly captivated, his heart racing out of control.

I was married at twenty, and now I’m the mother of a six-year-old son, Ravi. Since his birth, I haven’t conceived again. We never bothered to investigate why—whether it was me or him. Whenever I brought up wanting another child, my husband brushed it off. “We’ve got one precious son,” he’d say. “That’s enough. Why do we need more?”