The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the large kitchen windows of the mansion. The air smelled of fresh tea, toasted bread, and the light spices Sana was using. She stood at the counter in a simple light-yellow salwar kameez, sleeves rolled up, humming softly as she stirred a pot of porridge for Ayaan and prepared breakfast for the house.
Miss D’Souza had taken the baby for a short walk in the garden, giving Sana a rare quiet moment in the kitchen.
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