Arjun Sharma Part 1: The Letter in the Attic The hills of Ranikhet were wrapped in their usual mist, like a half-remembered dream refusing to fade with morning light. Anaya Mehra sat in the back of the shared taxi, her fingers clenched around the strap of her leather sketchbook bag. The sharp scent of pine mixed with damp earth rushed in through the half-open window, unfamiliar yet oddly calming. It had been ten years since she last came here — as a teenager, arms crossed in rebellion, dragged by her parents to visit her grandmother. Now, she returned alone, thirty…
