Steam fogged the bathroom mirror, turning her reflection into a blur she barely recognized.
Arora stood under the shower, water sliding down her shoulders, tracing the sharp lines of her collarbone, running over scars she never bothered to count anymore. The heat should have been soothing.
It wasn't.
Her hands rested flat against the cold tiles, fingers spread, head bowed as water poured over her hair. She closed her eyes.
And like always—
the memories came.
Uninvited. Uncontrolled.
She hated baths for that reason. Silence made room for ghosts.
Her mind slipped backward, not gently, but like a blade sliding between ribs.
---
The First Time
Rain.
That was the first thing she remembered.
Not his face.
Not his smile.
The rain.
Silver streaks cutting through the night, sliding down umbrellas, clinging to glass windows like they didn't want to let go. The smell of wet concrete. The quiet hum of the city pretending it wasn't hiding monsters.
