The courtyard of Aarush’s ancestral home looked like something ripped straight out of a dream.
Dozens of tiny clay diyas lined the stone steps, their flames flickering in the cool night air. Strings of marigolds draped the pillars. The scent of ghee, incense, and something sweet—maybe kheer?—wafted through the festive chaos.
Children ran around with sparklers. Music thumped lightly from the speakers. Laughter echoed. Warmth felt alive here.
Noah had never seen anything this beautiful.
Or this terrifying.
Because while the entire family reveled in the joy of the Festival of Lights, his phone buzzed nonstop inside his pocket like a dying wasp.
He wasn’t checking it.
He was too afraid.
And yet, even through the rising dread in his chest, part of him melted watching Aarush move through
