(Meera’s POV)
It had been a month since Diwali.
The haveli had returned to its usual rhythm — Dadi’s constant taunts, Maaji’s daily instructions, Laksh’s loud laughter echoing in the courtyard.
The tulsi altar in the center of the aangan no longer had any clay lamps — just dust settling in like old memories.
Everything felt normal.
Except one thing.
Deepa wasn’t.
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