Ishan had been under the influence - sometimes of his own violation, something under duress - but never had he been able to conjure such an endearing, such a painstakingly beautiful image of Shubman as the one before him now.

He had that innate brightness around him, like a halo, as if all the goodness, all the brightness had gravitated toward this ball of sunshine. He looked beautiful, as he always did, but what struck Ishan as different was the utter and complete lack of warmth in his eyes.