“Aarav had not cried since they left the tunnel. He rode on her hip with his legs wrapped around her waist and his arms around her neck, silent, watchful, his enormous dark eyes tracking every shadow and rustle with the hypervigilance of a child who had learned that stillness was survival. His weight — barely twelve kilos, heartbreakingly light for his age — was nothing compared to the chains she had carried, but her arms were weak and her wounds were draining her faster than the Divya Shakti could replenish.”