🎀⋆。𖦹°.🧿⋆❀˖°🍧
The rain had always been an accomplice to their secrets.
Ahaan, even at seven, possessed an unnerving precision. His neatly combed hair, his crisp school uniform, the way he meticulously arranged his toy soldiers in perfect platoons...
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The noise hit me first-a wave of shouting, announcements, and the distinct, humid buzz that was absolutely nothing like the quiet efficiency of the airports we had just left. It smelled of spices and movement, hot air and diesel. I inhaled deeply, trying to memorize the scent of home, even though I barely remembered what home felt like.
Papa squeezed my shoulder, pulling me slightly closer as we stood amidst the baggage trollies and the sea of waiting faces. He looked around, his own eyes wide with a mix of wonder and nostalgia.