The morning starts with music — soft violin echoing from a cracked window, echoing across the rustle of early rain. You open the stall not just to serve chai, but to share stories. On the chalkboard beside the menu is today's quote, written in bright blue chalk:
> "The past is not behind us. It steeps inside."
Amara strolls in with a satchel full of books, teasing you about burning the toast again. She knows both the sister who stayed and the sister who rebelled — because now, she's always known.
And tucked behind the counter? A recipe from Samar. Not for time-steeping or memory-twisting, but for his version of peace: "Rose Fenugreek Lassi — for forgiveness." You haven't made it yet… but you will.
Chiku pretends to nap on the hanging light, but every now and then, he hums an old freedom song under his breath — crow-jazz.
Life is quieter here, but it isn't small. It's rooted. Resonant. Real.