A week later, the rhythm of Kabir's visits felt oddly familiar. Meera was sorting a fresh delivery of grains when he arrived, not in a rush, but with the casual air of someone enjoying a routine. He bought some local tea, chatted briefly about the changing monsoon clouds, and then, with a cheerful wave, headed out.

Meera’s eyes, almost instinctively, swept over the counter where he’d been standing. Tucked next to the tea caddy was a small, black camera lens cap.