Sitara walked through the familiar path toward the servant quarters, her feet heavy, her heart heavier. The evening had settled around her, the sky deepening from orange to purple, the first stars beginning to appear. The garden was quiet, the fountain murmured softly, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

Her eyes were reddish. She had tried to wash her face before leaving Kabir's office, had splashed cold water on her cheeks and patted them dry with her dupatta. But the redness remained, the evidence of tears she couldn't fully hide. Her eyes were swollen, her lashes still damp, her nose slightly pink.