
prxttylxlies
Calcutta, 1941. The city was a storm waiting to break. It whispered secrets through the rustling leaves of the banyan trees, hid conspiracies in the ink-stained fingers of revolutionaries, and carried the scent of rebellion in the air thickened with the promise of war. In a dimly lit room, three women sat together-Anokhi, Adhriti, and Aira-their voices hushed yet urgent, their hearts pounding with a cause greater than themselves. They did not wield guns or swords, but something far more dangerous-defiance. They would write. They would fight. And they would not break. https://www.wattpad.com/story/390961506?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=prxttylxlies