Sharou was on the terrace somewhere downstairs, by himself. He lacked the energy to respond to the greetings and questions buzzing around his ears. One by one, his luggage was loaded. A light package for him was two boots full of heavy apparel and shoes. Darya and some of the others showed up to see him off. They filled the benches beside him, leaning in for one last skinship.
Parisa also walked in, holding onto Shila. Sharou noticed the small things- the lost expressions, and half-cooked smiles seeking to hide her long face. Parisa ignored the side-eyes and unspoken grimaces from her fellow Mistress. "I'm ready to go," even her voice lacked its vibrant texture.
"How is she?" Sharou cradled her face in his palms when she knelt before him. That was when she let out a sincere sigh. "She
