The sun was dipping low, washing the village in shades of saffron and red. I adjusted the edge of my saree over my shoulder, clutching the cloth bag of vegetables close to me as I paid the vendor. The jingling of coins felt loud in my palm, and when I tucked them back into the little purse tied to my waist, I gave a polite nod to the old woman behind the stall.

It had been a long day at the palace, and all I wanted was to get home, help Maa with the evening chores, and maybe, for once, sleep without my mind churning in confusion. With the bag of vegetables weighing heavy on my wrist, I turned down the lane that led toward the quieter side of the market.