Siya slept curled against him, her breathing slow and even, one hand fisted lightly into his shirt as if her body still needed proof that he was real. Shashwat lay on his back, one arm wrapped securely around her, the other absent-mindedly moving through her hair. She always slept early.

Somewhere along the years he had been gone, her nights had grown shorter, as if sleep had become a refuge she needed before the world could hurt her again. Even now, with him here, her body still followed that old rhythm. The moment exhaustion touched her, she surrendered to it.