The confession at the penthouse had been heavy, but the weight of the secrets in his parents’ home was suffocating. Zayn walked through the familiar hallway, the scent of his childhood home now feeling like a judge. He knocked on Salim’s door, his voice barely a whisper when he called out, “Baba?”

Salim, having just finished his prayers, folded his mat with a practiced grace. “Aaja beta! Come in, what’s the matter?” He gestured for Zayn to sit beside him on the couch.