Onscreen, a grainy scene played an old film, a younger man’s voice echoing across the screen.
"Life gives you a second chance Zia does not."
Zian’s voice was cold, final. The screen turned black.
Elsewhere in the house, Kohina gently pushed open her bedroom door. The soft rustle of her sari against the wooden frame was the only sound as she stepped inside. Her eyes landed on Shekhu, sitting in the corner like a withering flame. His plate lay untouched, the food cold, abandoned. His eyes were distant broken glass reflecting a thousand cuts.
"You should eat," Kohina said, her voice a mere whisper, trying not to ignite the storm she saw brewing behind his silence.
Shekhu didn’t look at her. His words were a blade wrapped in velvet. "Why do you care? You don’t."
Her lips parted, but noth
