The soft hum of morning in Mussoorie drifted through the open kitchen windows, birds chattering in the pine trees, the distant rumble of a scooter on the sloping road below. Golden sunlight pooled over the granite countertop, catching in the steam curling from two cups of tea.

Yahvi sat perched on a high stool, her elbow resting lazily on the counter, her chin propped in her palm. She watched Vedansh at the stove, his focus absolute as he stirred onions and green chilies in a sizzling pan. The warm fragrance of tempered spices mingled with the sharp freshness of chopped coriander, wrapping the kitchen in comfort.