The morning sun streamed through the large windows of Sitara's room, warm and golden, carrying the sound of birds from the garden below. She had slept—finally, after so many nights of waking in terror—but the sleep had not been restful. Her body was heavy, her mind foggy, her limbs felt like they belonged to someone else.

She pushed herself up from the bed and walked slowly toward the bathroom. The marble floor was cold beneath her bare feet. She turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm, staring at her reflection in the mirror.