Ananya sat on the lower berth of the reserved four-berth coupe as the train rocked steadily through the night. The attendant had just checked their tickets, closed the door, and moved on down the corridor. Kartik was the first to reach over and slide the latch into place with a soft metallic click. Veer pulled the heavy curtains across the entrance, sealing them off from the narrow passage outside. Om leaned against the opposite berth, watching her with a half-smile that never quite reached his eyes.

She looked from one face to the next. These were her step-cousins, men she had grown up around at family gatherings, men her parents still called “the boys.” Kartik was the eldest, broad-shouldered, the one who always spoke first. Veer was quieter but quicker with his hands. Om was the one who smiled the most and meant it the least.