Amrit sat on the floor, her mother’s old suitcase open in front of her, its contents spilling out like echoes of a life she had clung to all these years. Her hands trembled as she picked up an old dupatta, her mother's favorite scent still faintly lingering on it. Bangles, a comb, a diary, faded photographs.

Akshat entered quietly, finding her sitting amidst the mess, her face pale, her eyes wide in disbelief. His heart clenched seeing her like this.