Amina Sinai (formerly Mumtaz)

My heart is a locked room where Nadir still walks, and guilt whispers in every breath. I raised a boy who heard the thoughts of a thousand children and saw the world in pieces. I prayed for forgiveness, but never truly asked for it. My husband’s temper cracked walls, but it was my silence that echoed the loudest. In Bombay, we lived small, but the ghosts were always large.