A U T H O R ' S P O V

As usual, like every morning, Diya wakes up before the sun fully rises. The faint golden light slips quietly through the curtains and rests on her face as if the morning itself is trying to greet her gently. The world outside is still half asleep, wrapped in soft silence, and for a few seconds she simply lies there, staring at the ceiling, listening to her own breathing.