The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the burnflower, casting a dappled, shifting pattern on the grass beneath. Vividh lay with his head pillowed in Adhishree's lap, the world reduced to this: the scent of hydrangeas from the garden, the distant chatter of a seven-year-old and a cat in the treehouse above, and the gentle, rhythmic stroke of her fingers through his hair.

Two years. It felt like a lifetime, and yet it had passed in a blink. A blink filled with so much.