The next morning, she awoke to Dhadi sitting on a chair by the window, reading the Quran. Warn sunlight streaked through the window, shining onto her grandmother’s face. Durkhanai felt like she had been transported to a memory from long ago.

“Good morning,” Durkhanai said, stretching. She still felt horrible. Her entire body ached and quaked.

“Ut’gai meri shehzadi?” Dhadi said, coming over. “You’re awake.”

She smiled and planted a kiss on Durkhanai’s forehead, blowing softly on her face.

“You freshen up,” Dhadi said. “I’ll call for breakfast and your Agha-Jaan.”

Durkhanai did as she was told, and it took much of her energy from her, even with the help of maids. When she came to her drawing room, she found breakfast had been spread across the table, and her grandfather was sitting, waiting for her. She bent down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Assalam u alaikum, gudiya,” he said in greeting.

“Walaikum assalam,” she greeted back, offering a smile. But by the time she sat down for breakfast, wrapped in a shahtoosh shawl to keep her warm, she was exhausted.

She wanted to crawl back to bed, and Dhadi must have guessed as much because she shot her the Grandmother Look. Dhadi set a plate in front of her, full of yogurt, fried eggs with runny golden yolks, and a crisp paratha glistening with ghee.

“You must eat this entire paratha,” Dhadi instructed. “I’ve had it made with extra ghee, so you can get your energy back.”

Durkhanai opened her mouth to protest and Dhadi only sharpened the Grandmother Look.

“Yes, Dhadi,” Durkhanai conceded, beginning to eat.

The food was delicious, but Durkhanai hardly had an appetite. She could barely swallow a few spoonfuls of sweet yogurt. She was scheming a way of getting out of eating it all when Dhadi reached across the table to pour herself more tea.

“Agha-Jaan,” Durkhanai whispered, nudging her grandfather when she thought Dhadi wasn’t looking. She gestured to her leftover paratha, and her grandfather chuckled. He nodded, and she discreetly slid her bread into his plate.

“I saw that,” Dhadi said, sipping her chai. Durkhanai laughed.

She had missed them. Even though she always saw them, and nothing had changed, really, it hadn’t been just them in quite a while. She missed being a little girl, sometimes.

“How are negotiations with the ambassadors going?” Durkhanai asked. “Is everything—”

“Nothing about that, gudiya,” Agha-Jaan cut her off. “You mustn’t worry.”

“So you don’t have to get back?” Durkhanai asked. “I’m sure you are terribly busy. I can manage on my own.”

“Nonsense,” Dhadi tsked. “We have nowhere to be but here, with our granddaughter.”

“You used to not even eat, if it wasn’t with us,” Agha-Jaan reminded her.

“Oh, how you would fuss!” Dhadi added.