Rajni’s breath hitched, her eyes wide as the car came to a halt in front of her childhood home. Tears blurred her vision as she glanced at Srikant, who, despite his obvious pain, gave her a lopsided smile. “Ab utar bhi,” (Now get down,) he said playfully, wincing as he nudged her gently towards the door. His voice carried warmth, as though urging her forward would ease her hesitation. Her lips trembled before curving into a radiant smile, and with a deep breath, she stepped out.

Without waiting another moment, Rajni ran to the door, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and guilt. The house loomed before her, its familiarity both comforting and jarring. She pushed the door open, not bothering to knock, her feet carrying her inside. Her eyes immediately found Kusum, her younger sister, who stood with a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other, diligently cleaning the ground. For a moment, Rajni froze. At just fourteen, Kusum had grown into a mirror of her own eighteen-year-old self—her slight frame, her delicate features, the innocence in her eyes all too familiar.