Chapter 4: Childhood Memories and Realizations

In my dreams, warmth flooded the world. Sunlight danced on the courtyard, the scent of hot milk and cardamom wafted from the kitchen, and the ring of a cycle bell sounded outside. I was a child again, safe in the village, love simple and unquestioned.

Rohan, even at five, was quiet and watchful. He’d sit by the well, legs swinging, and when his parents came to take him to Mumbai, he just clung to my hand, refusing to let go. "Don’t separate me from Meera," he’d say, his voice trembling with certainty.

I remembered the first taste of Dairy Milk Silk—a festival day, laughter, and chocolate smeared across my face. When my parents finally agreed to send me to the city with the Sharmas for a better education, Rohan took my hand. "Meera, come with me." I hesitated, missing the smell of wet earth after the rain. Rohan pouted, snatching away my Dairy Milk Silk. "Then you can’t eat this." I gave in, laughing, and clung to him, knowing at least we’d be together.