Aditi stood at the airport terminal, her fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase. The warm Balinese sun had kissed her skin for weeks, but now, as she stepped back into the chaos of her city, the warmth seemed to fade, replaced by a familiar chill. Home. The word felt foreign, almost ironic.
Was it even home? Yaa bss chaar deewarein jahan har din ek ankahi jang hoti thi.
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