Vihaan Pillai 1 The first thing Diya Roy noticed as she stepped out of the auto-rickshaw was the riot of bougainvillea spilling over the crumbling walls, their magenta petals fluttering down like tired confetti. The villa, hidden behind this living curtain, looked both majestic and broken, its yellowed walls cracked with age, wooden shutters hanging loose, and a mossy veranda that hinted at better days. For a long moment, Diya stood silently, suitcase in hand, as the afternoon sun pressed gently against her skin, warming the doubt that had settled in her chest since she left Chennai. It had been…