Tara and Mihir walked together toward their room, her fingers laced firmly with his. She tugged him along gently, and he followed behind her like an obedient child, his smile soft but unmistakable. There was something about the way she held his hand—with purpose, with warmth—that made him feel grounded, almost cherished.

As soon as they stepped inside, Tara quietly closed the door behind them. Mihir’s brows furrowed in confusion; he looked at her, wondering what she was up to.