Just as Rabia wiped away her tears, a sudden knock startled her. She straightened up, masking her emotions.
"Who is it?" she called cautiously.
"It's me, Mom," Wendy's familiar voice answered from the other side of the door.
Rabia quickly unlocked it, letting her mother in and quietly closing it behind them. "What are you doing here, Mom?" she asked in surprise.
Wendy handed over a bag. "Put this on."
"You got me a dress?" Rabia's face lit up as she eagerly took the bag. But her joy was short-lived.
The bag held neither a designer gown nor anything remotely elegant—just a simple shirt and a pair of jeans, both poorly made and out of place for a high-profile event.
Rabia's smile froze, fading into disbelief. "Mom, is this a mistake?"
"No mistake," Wendy replied calmly. "I borrowed t
