Pihu's mother didn't cry on the phone.
Which somehow made it worse.
"The shop will close next month," she said. "We'll manage. You focus."
Pihu laughed too loudly. "Of course. I'm in Mumbai. I'm becoming something."
After the call, she didn't speak.
Not at dinner.
Not during a movie.
Not when Meher asked if she wanted coffee.
That night, Ananya woke to sound.
Not crying.
Breathing that couldn't decide.
She sat up.
Pihu was on her bed, knees to her chest, face buried.
"I don't want to be strong today," Pihu whispered. "I don't want to motivate anyone. I just want my father to stop sounding tired."
Ananya climbed onto her bed and pulled her close.
"You don't have to be strong," she said. "You're allowed to be held."
Nandini and Meher joined without words.
Four girls.
One bed.
Mumbai outside.
And a truth no amount of ambition erases:
Strong women still need softness.