The mirror went dark. Meera fell backward, her palm stinging. When she looked, a small, red burn in the exact shape of a peacock’s beak was blooming on her skin.
Meera shook her head, tears spilling.
She never found the letter. But that night, she called her mother. aaina 1993
The woman smiled, and her teeth were tiny, perfect mirrors. “Your father saw his wife. Your mother saw her sister who died as a child. But you, Meera—you saw a stranger. Because you have failed no one yet.” The mirror went dark
Behind him, wrapped in a mustard-yellow bedsheet, was the aaina . her palm stinging. When she looked