As we reached the gates of the mansion, I stepped out first, handing the keys to the driver with a quiet nod. The evening air was sharp—too still for comfort. One of those nights where the silence felt staged, like the world was holding its breath.

Then I saw her—Inayat.
She walked up beside me, her dupatta fluttering gently in the breeze. There was something about the way she looked tonight—elegant, unsure, trying to fit into a world that had already drawn its borders without her. It stirred something deep inside me.