Even on dull mornings in her hometown in Kashmir, her bright grin made people look twice. Her cheer was like a warm scarf, you could feel it, and it made everything feel a little safer. When she was alone in her room, the tears came like rain on tin roofs: sharp, relentless, and unobserved. For a time, the “happy girl” and the “loser” lived together: one in the world’s eyes, the other in her own secret sphere. She wished she could stay in bed, away from mirrors and other faces, away from the relentless expectation to be “happy girl.” Her colleagues noticed and advised her to focus on herself, breathe, and step back.