For a moment, the apartment held its breath.
Zarin looked at the cereal like it was something rare, something almost fragile. Not because of what it was—but because of where it was. A chipped bowl. A small table that wobbled if you leaned too hard. A child swinging her legs without a care in the world.
It wasn’t her world.
…
👇 👇 👇 👇 👇
