The silk sheets, cool and alien against her skin, did nothing to stir Aakriti from her profound slumber. She was utterly oblivious to the unfamiliar scent of the expensive linen, the imposing size of the bed, or the fact that this was most certainly not her cramped studio apartment. Her breathing was slow and even, a soft rhythmic counterpoint to the thrumming silence of the vast, dimly lit room.

Just a little far away from her bed, in a plush-sized sofa a figure was sitting.