In the quiet of the morning, before the world had fully woken, she moved through the house like a whispered promise. Her touch was gentle, a soft caress that smoothed the wrinkles from the fabric of their lives. She was the kind of woman who seemed to have an infinite reserve of patience and warmth, a nurturing spirit that enveloped her family like a protective shield. Her eyes, deep and kind, always found the light, even in the darkest moments, guiding her son with a steady, unwavering love.
Her son, Dayyan still young enough to believe in the goodness of the world, often wondered if she had a secret, some ancient wisdom that she alone possessed. How else could she turn the mundane into something miraculous? With a word, she could calm his fears; with a smile, she could lift his spirits.
