“Okay, meri jaan. We need to get Zoha to bed.” God, I love it when she calls me that. “Before I forget, what’s your favourite number again? I need to set a new passcode for my safe.” She raises a brow. Fall for it, fall for it, fall for it— “Twenty-three.” “Twenty-three,” I repeat, trying to decipher why it’s her favourite—Oh. We’re born on the twenty-third of July. Of course, there’s a sentimental value behind her favourite number.
