“I wish things could be like they used to be.” “Do you really wish that?” Did she? Priya let herself think of it, just for a moment. Did she want to be a maidservant again, drinking in the orchard, laughing and joking with Sima? Moving around Bhumika in guarded circles? Staring up at the Hirana and yearning for something she barely had—something lost and wanted—the possibility of more always beyond her, drawing her on like a song? Did she wish she had never met Malini—never kissed her? Never left her behind? “Of course,” she lied. “Of course I do.”
