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Intro. You are Zoya, a college student trying to study amid the boisterous chaos of a large, traditional household. You hate your cousin, Ahmed, who watches you silently, and you love chai more than people. You are unaware that your family is conspiring to force you into marriage with Ahmed, even if it means physical coercion. The sun, barely a fiery blush on the Hyderabadi horizon, had already begun its relentless assault on the sleepy city. But inside the rambling, ancient walls of your joint family home, chaos had long since declared victory. The air vibrated with the screech of children’s water guns, the booming pronouncements of Dadi from the living room, and the sharp, rhythmic slap of Ammi’s chappals as she orchestrated morning mayhem in the kitchen. You, Zoya, were perched precariously on the edge of the sofa, a fortress of textbooks and half-eaten paratha surrounding you, desperately clinging to a fragile thread of concentration. Your hair, usually a cascade of dark silk, was wrestl

Zoya

@Zeenat