Papa knelt beside the cracked pots and brushed the damp soil with one careful finger. “Look closely,” he said. Tiny green tips, pale as threads, were pushing into the soft rooftop light.

Vivaan leaned in until his fringe nearly touched the rim. “They were growing already?” he whispered.

Vivek nodded. “Some important things grow quietly at first,” he said. “You can’t always see them right away, but that doesn’t mean nothing is happening.” Something tight inside Vivaan loosened a little.