Riya was only 18, her young life already marked by loss. Her parents had died in a tragic accident years ago, leaving her in the care of her grandparents. Dadi and Dadaji had been her world in their old family home, a sprawling house filled with memories. But now, Dadi was gone too—passed away just weeks ago from a sudden illness. The house felt emptier, the silence heavier. Riya was left alone with Dadaji, her 70-year-old grandfather, whose frail appearance hid a surprising vigor. Even in their old age, Riya had overheard the rhythmic creaking of their bed at night, the muffled gasps and thuds that told her Dadaji's sexual hunger hadn't faded with time. He was addicted to it, stronger than Dadi ever was, dominating her in ways Riya could only imagine from the sounds echoing through the thin walls.