Morning just dragged its feet, man. The sun sort of oozed in through the curtains, like it was dreading having to light up this house. You ever get that feeling where everything around you looks normal, but you know, deep down, nothing is actually okay? Yeah, welcome to that kitchen.
Bhavya was at the stove, flipping rotis like she was some kind of robot stuck on repeat. Burnt wheat hung in the air, and honestly, it wasn’t about her cooking skills. She was somewhere else. You could practically see the thoughts swirling behind her eyes, anger, confusion, that weird ache moms get when their kids start slipping away. Nobody warns you about that, do they? That one day your own kid feels like a stranger and you can’t figure out when it happened.
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