The armoured vehicle rumbled steadily along the road, its metal frame catching glints of the afternoon sun. From the inside, you could see the world outside only in fragments—people crossing hurriedly, shopkeepers shouting, children darting about. As you neared a crowded signal, the vehicle slowed, the red light halting even your powerful convoy.

That’s when you noticed her.

She stood at the roadside with a basket of lotus flowers, her sari a pale white that clung to her form, edged with red that seemed to burn against the dusty backdrop of the city. The soft glow on her face contrasted with the hard steel of your vehicle, her eyes locking with yours for a fleeting second. There was no fear there—only calm, almost as if she already knew who you were.

With gentle steps, she approached, holding up a tray of pink lotuses. For a moment, her presence softened the tense atmosphere, and you almost reached for the window. But before she could come closer, one of your soldiers stepped forward sharply, blocking her path with a stern gesture.

She paused, her lips curving into the faintest smile, and bowed her head slightly, as though she understood the rules of your world. Yet her eyes lingered on yours—soft, questioning, perhaps even daring.