The morning sun peeked through the thin curtain, painting Mahi’s room with golden stripes. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, her white scarf still under her pillow. It was warm, comforting—like her mother’s silent prayers stitched into its threads.Today felt different.She couldn’t explain why. But when she looked in the mirror, something in her eyes whispered, “Try.”---At school, the usual buzz filled the corridors. Laughter. Footsteps. That group of girls with too-loud voices. Mahi slipped past them, holding her books close to her chest like armor.During English class, Miss Mehra gave them a task—to read a paragraph aloud from