By late afternoon, the garden had thinned. The larger groups drifted out, their chatter replaced by softer footsteps of those who stayed behind. The air was cooler now, carrying the faint sweetness of blossoms that opened only in the evening.

I sat on a low stone near the lilies, a cup of tea still warm in my hands. Aisha and Laila walked the paths, straightening ribbons, answering quiet questions, keeping an eye on the fabric. I let them work. My body felt tired but not in the way it did after ...