Aryan spent every night on the rooftop, memorizing constellations. He believed stars carried messages from the past.
“Why are you always up there?” his father asked one night.
“Because one of those stars is Mom,” Aryan replied. “I know she’s watching.”
His father looked at the sky. “You can’t see her,” he muttered.
“You’re looking with your eyes,” Aryan said softly. “You need to look with your heart.”
That night, Aryan’s father lay beside him, and for the first time since losing his wife, he noticed something new — a star that seemed to flicker more brightly than the rest.