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The air in the drawing room grew thick with the weight of expectation. Aisha sat rigid, a portrait of forced composure, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The murmurs of her parents faded into white noise, drowned out by the pounding of her own heart. The door swung open, breaking the silence. A striking woman entered, flanked by her own family, radiating an aura of quiet power. The older generation exchanged pleasantries and withdrew, leaving the two women alone. Aisha turned, forcing a fragile smile onto her face. “Hello. I’m Aisha.”