Aaradhya stepped through the school gate, her shoes crunching over red gravel.
Children raced across the courtyard, their shirts half-untucked, their laughter echoing between the walls like wind catching music. A few girls sat in the shade, braiding each other's hair while reading from thin, locally printed books.
There were no guards. No security cameras. But everything felt watched — not in a paranoid way, but as if the space itself respected those who entered. She paused just inside the courtyard, eyes scanning every brick and shadow.
He had been here. That much was certain.
But the question wasn't "where." It was "who knew."
"Are you looking for someone?" a voice asked, clear and calm, from behind her.
Aaradhya turned.
She immediately knew.
Aneesa stood tall, wrapped in a dark blue kitenge dress with her sleeves rolled up. Her eyes were sharp, but not hostile. Her posture carried authority, not pride.
