Kamala and Amala

Chapter 1: A Place Beneath the Mango Tree

On her first night in the unfamiliar house, Kamala counted every sound.

A spoon tapped a bowl.

A door creaked.

Somewhere beyond the window, a leaf whispered against another leaf.

Beside her, little Amala slept with one hand tucked into Kamala’s palm. Kamala stayed awake. The room smelled of soap and cooked rice, and nothing felt familiar except the small, warm fingers holding hers.

When footsteps approached, Kamala tightened her grip.

The footsteps stopped.

A woman placed a bowl of water near the doorway and sat down a little distance away.

“My name is Mira,” she said softly.

Kamala did not answer.