​There was something unsettling about the way those eyes had burned themselves into her memory.

​Zahra sat motionlessly on the edge of her bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her gaze anchored to a faded pattern on the bedroom rug. The silence of the night was heavy, oppressive even, broken only by the faint ticking of the wall clock in the hallway. Outside, the city of Mumbai had slowed into a low, distant hum, but inside her chest, everything felt chaotic, loud, and hopelessly tangled.