The Mathur mansion had never felt this heavy. Usually, our living room buzzed with laughter, with Mom fussing over snacks and Papa reading the newspaper while pretending to ignore her scolding. But today… today, silence had weight.

The curtains were half-drawn, letting in a dusky light that made the marble floor look dull instead of sparkling. Papa sat stiffly on the sofa, hands clasped so tightly that his knuckles were pale. Mom paced by the window, pretending to adjust the drapes every five minutes but really just trying to control her nerves.