The morning sun slanted through the lace curtains of Shikha’s bedroom, casting golden lattices across the soft cream carpet, a delicate dance of light that mirrored the fragile warmth in her heart. Her newly restored friendship with Shreya had rekindled a sweet relief, easing the ache of longing that had lingered like a persistent shadow. Memories of their schoolyard adventures—mischievous giggles and whispered secrets under the shade of ancient oaks—wrapped her in nostalgia, their warmth a stark contrast to the question gnawing at her peace: why had Anaya, their childhood companion, shattered their bond with a single, devastating act? The sprawling contemporary home around her pulsed with elegance, its open spaces splashed with bold abstract art in vibrant reds and blues, cascading green
