The next morning, Shikha entered the office with her usual bounce, balancing her bag, a steaming cup of chai from the roadside stall, and a notebook tucked under her arm. Mumbai still felt too big for her at times, but these little routines—the crowded trains, the vada pav sellers, the early chatter—were starting to feel like her rhythm.

The office was alive already. Phones buzzed, printers whirred, and the smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air. Files were stacked high on every desk, waiting to be conquered. Shikha spotted her group already gathered around their desks, looking equally sleep-deprived and overwhelmed.