The days that followed were gentle and fulfilling, a refreshing pause from the rush of routine. Aisha spent her mornings lingering over chai with her parents, soaking in their stories and laughter. She visited old places that held bits of her childhood, browsed through local bazaars with her mother, and cooked together in the kitchen where every spice had a memory.

There was something peaceful in those slow moments, in the smell of homemade parathas, the clinking of bangles, and her father’s teasing one-liners that still made her laugh like a little girl.