Inside, Kainat stood in front of the mirror, clutching the oversized t-shirt. She looked at herself—smeared kajal, pale face, tired eyes. Her throat was tight, not just from the fast, but from the emotional storm brewing inside her. Slowly, she changed into Agastya’s t-shirt. It smelled of him—woody and familiar. That one scent undid her for a moment. She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to cry again.

Kainat stepped back into the room after changing, only to find that Agastya wasn’t there. She let out a deep breath and quietly sat down on the edge of the bed, lost in thought. Just a few minutes later, the door creaked open and Agastya entered with a food tray in his hands.