October 2013. On the calendar, it was just another ordinary day, no different from any other. But who could have known that behind the veil of this mundane morning, an extraordinary darkness was lying in wait?
The morning light broke softly over the city. In a small two-story house at the edge of town, the daily hustle had begun. On the ground floor was Mahi's small shop. Mahi was a hardworking woman, balancing her home and business with a graceful yet firm hand. Since waking up, however, she had felt a strange restlessness—as if nature itself was whispering a silent warning.
Standing before the mirror, Mahi tried to adjust her attire. She was preparing to go out. She had pulled a beautiful Western-style dress from her wardrobe, but it felt tighter than usual. No matter how she tried, the zipper wouldn't budge. "Not today," she muttered to herself, frustrated. Giving up on the dress, she changed into something loose and comfortable instead.
Meanwhile, Mahi's husband, Don, was getting ready for the factory. Lately, Don seemed to have changed. Even when he was physically present at home, he felt distant. His life revolved around work, and when he returned, he would lose himself in the television and sports. Mahi sighed quietly, wondering if Don would ever notice the silent loneliness growing within her.
Just then, eight-year-old Sohan came running in. This lively little girl was the heartbeat of the house. "Mom, I'm going to school by myself today!" she announced with a bright smile.
Mahi was taken aback. Had her little girl grown up so fast? She brushed a strand of hair from Sohan's forehead and said, "Honey, you don't have to go alone. I'll drop you off."
Sohan insisted, "No, Mom! I'm a big girl now. I have my umbrella; I can go on my own."
Mahi smiled at her daughter's fierce confidence. But as she glanced out the window at the thickening gray clouds, a sharp, unknown fear gripped her heart for a split second.