He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your father didn't say it because he didn't see you as 'other.' In the West, love is a contract between two individuals. I give affection, You give validation. It is transactional. But here? Here, the ideal is Advaita. Non-duality. One soul in two bodies." Kabir went silent. He thought of the noise-cancelling headphones. He thought of the closed door. I was the one who created the distance, he realized. I created the 'You' so I could manage him. "We are obsessed with the flower," Shukla Master continued, gesturing to a pot of marigolds in the corner. "We want the flower of romance. We want the bright colors, the sweet smell, the Instagram caption. We want to hear the words because words are the flowers of a relationship. But flowers die in a day."