Leila is working when her brother, Agha Ghorban, arrives, and they embrace each other.

The office hums with a soft, ordinary music—the clack of keyboards, a printer sighing, the rustle of papers. Leila sits at her desk by the window, a thin line of sunlight tracing the edge of her blueprints. Her mug smells faintly of cardamom tea, the way she likes it in the mornings, when the air is still and hopeful. She’s mid-sentence to a coworker, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she explains a detail she’s perfected, when the door chimes and the room tilts toward something a little more real. Agha Ghorban steps in, tall and easy, his scarf tucked under his coat like a quiet signal that he belongs here too. The corridor seems to widen for him, the murmur of the office thinning to a hush of recognition. He slides off his coat, rolls his sleeves, and his eyes find Leila in an instant—two ships meeting in a familiar harbor. Leila freezes for a breath, then rises with a laugh that blooms bright and unguarded. The chair scrapes as she wheels it away, and for a heartbeat the whole world tightens to the two of them. They close the distance in a single, unhurried stride and fold into an embrace that feels like mercy after a long voyage. His arms curve around her like a shelter she forgot she needed. Her head fits just under his chin, and she can hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, the clean scent of rain and earth clinging to his jacket. His hand rests at the back of her neck, fingers finding the precise knot of tension there and unknitting it with a single, sure press. “It’s you,” she whispers, surprised by how true the word sounds when spoken aloud in the middle of a busy room. “Always you,” he replies, his voice low and careful so as not to jostle the glass on her desk. “You’re the first thing I wanted to see when I landed.” The hug lingers, not just with warmth but with the quiet, stubborn knowledge of siblings—the way they carry each other’s burdens without asking for permission. Leila breathes in the scent of his coat, a weathered smell of rain and home, and for a moment the office dissolves around them. People step back a step or two, and then draw