I woke to the sound of her breathing. Not mine—hers. Deep, steady, like a tide I could drift on. My cheek was still pressed to the curve of her shoulder, her dupatta tucked around me like I was something fragile she’d been asked to guard.“Good morning, chhoti si gudiya,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. Her arms, which had never loosened all night, tightened just enough to remind me I was held.I blinked, the room still dim. “You… didn’t put me down?”“Why would I?” She shifted, sliding her legs off the side of the cane chair, and in