“No. You earned this.”
Sana (now 19) stands before the mirror, adjusting the cuff of her office shirt. Beside her, a framed photo of her late parents watches over her. She doesn’t cry anymore when she looks at it. Instead, she speaks to it softly.
Silence. Then Sana opens her purse, pulls out her new salary cheque—unsigned—and hands it to Zara.
“You don’t have a job, Zara. You quit six months ago.”
“Work.”