The room was quiet, the only sounds were the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant chirping of crickets from the garden outside. The air conditioner was old, its motor rattling slightly every few minutes, but it did its job, pushing cool, dry air into the room that made Sitara's skin prickle with goosebumps. The crickets were a constant presence in the mansion's gardens, their chorus rising and falling like a living thing, a reminder that the world outside these walls was still alive, still moving, still indifferent to the small dramas unfolding within.

Sitara sat on the edge of her bed, her textbooks spread out before her, but her eyes weren't on the pages. The textbooks were open to chapters on economics and political science, subjects she had once loved, once devoured with a hunger that bordered on obsession.