Aarohi was fast asleep in Zaniya’s lap. The little girl’s breathing was slow and soft, her face calm as if all her worries had disappeared for the night. Her tiny hands rested against Zaniya’s saree, and her head moved slightly whenever Zaniya’s fingers stroked her hair.
For Aarohi, who had spent so many nights curled up on a hard bed in the nahim's house, this was new. The warmth of a mother’s lap, the gentle touch, the kiss on her forehead—it was something she had never felt before. And that’s why her sleep was so peaceful, so deep, as though her heart finally trusted that she was safe.
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