“Here,” Asfandyar said, as he saw a travelling trunk. When he opened the lid, it was empty, all the clothes unpacked. Without another word, he climbed in.

“Come on,” he said.

Durkhanai looked behind her. The voices were coming closer.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice gentle. He was sitting with his back pressed against the side of the trunk, legs spread open. With one hand, he held open the lid of the trunk, and he offered his other hand to her.

“Fittay mu tera,” she muttered, taking his hand. She climbed in, sitting in front of him, but it was a tight squeeze—her legs wouldn’t fold. She pressed her back against him, bending her limbs as much as they could, and Asfandyar lowered the lid of the trunk.

He held it open with one hand, leaving a crack of light and air in. They were pressed together, and the trunk was suddenly very, very hot as she realized how close they were.

“Why are your legs so long?” she hissed, trying to separate herself from him. They were tangled together, every muscle of his chest pressed into her back.

“Why are your legs so long?” he hissed back.

But in the heat and the dark, claustrophobia spread across her chest, a constricting feeling that made her whimper. She breathed in short bursts of air, trying not to hyperventilate.

“It’s okay,” Asfandyar whispered, voice gentle. His free arm untangled to come around her. She clutched his hand tightly, felt his bones crush between hers.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” he murmured. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Just then, the voices came close enough for Durkhanai to tell they were in the changing room. Heart beating fast, she prayed they wouldn’t be found. Her and Asfandyar both froze, not moving a muscle, their limbs cramped and strained.

“Gulalai-sahiba, I’m so sorry for my servant’s clumsiness,” Palwasha-sahiba was saying. “Here, take this shahtoosh shawl as a token of apology.”

“It’s no problem at all—thank you so much!” Gulalai answered, voice high. “Come, now, won’t you join me for tea in my rooms?”

“Yes, of course,” Palwasha-sahiba replied.

“And bring your servant as well!”

The voices were growing distant now, and Durkhanai released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when the room finally fell silent once more.

“I think they’ve gone,” Asfandyar whispered. The trunk creaked as he eased open the lid, revealing the empty changing room.

“It’s okay,” he said, stroking Durkhanai’s hair with his now free hand.

She hadn’t realized she was still clutching his other hand.

“Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “Shukria.”

Fresh air kissed Durkhanai’s cheeks as she stepped out, and she sighed with relief, stretching. It was then she remembered she still had the letter from the locked box.

She read it carefully, then handed it to Asfandyar for inspection.