The rain fell in heavy sheets, battering the windows of the Kapoor mansion, drowning the echoes of the argument that had finally subsided. Aaradhya lay curled on her bed, the canvas forgotten, her headphones abandoned. The weight of her father's words pressed against her chest, threatening to shatter the fragile composure she had built over the years.
But the storm outside couldn't mask the turmoil brewing within her. She stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying the image of her mother's tear-streaked face, the chair flying across the room, and the venom in her father's voice.

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