Lilly stood in the doorway, holding a silenced pistol.
The plan was elegant: On the night of Karva Chauth, while the family fasted and prayed for their husbands’ long lives, Lilly would slip Maa ji a sleeping pill in her milk. Aarav would pick the lock on the safe. They would take the diary, replace it with a fake, and escape before dawn.
“You’ll never get away with it.”
“Go,” she whispered. “I’ll distract Vikram.”
Lilly dressed like a queen—red sari, gold bangles, her face a mask of devotion. She sat with the other women, singing bhajans, not eating a grain. Aarav watched her from the terrace, sweating.
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Lilly stood in the doorway, holding a silenced pistol.
The plan was elegant: On the night of Karva Chauth, while the family fasted and prayed for their husbands’ long lives, Lilly would slip Maa ji a sleeping pill in her milk. Aarav would pick the lock on the safe. They would take the diary, replace it with a fake, and escape before dawn.
“You’ll never get away with it.”
“Go,” she whispered. “I’ll distract Vikram.”
Lilly dressed like a queen—red sari, gold bangles, her face a mask of devotion. She sat with the other women, singing bhajans, not eating a grain. Aarav watched her from the terrace, sweating.