
Sanvi sat on the bed with her dupatta neatly pinned, eyes lined with kohl, lips curved into a gentle smile—one she had practiced in the mirror before coming.
Her mother stepped into the room holding a steel plate of her favourite sweets—besan ke laddoo—but her brows furrowed the moment her eyes landed on Sanvi’s face. She set the plate down and walked over, cupping her daughter’s cheeks gently.

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