The kite tournament was over, and Aarav had lost.

He had practised for weeks. He had checked the wind, waxed the string, measured the tail three times. He had done everything right. And still, near the end, another boy's kite had cut his loose, and he had watched it spin away over the Puri rooftops, small and gone.

Now he sat on the steps of Dadu's house with his knees pulled up, going over it again and again. "I should have angled left. I should have let out more string. I should have, I should have—" His eyes stung.

Dadu came out and sat down beside him, slow as always.

"You did everything you could think of?" he asked.

"Everything," Aarav said miserably. "I followed every rule. I tried so hard, Dadu. And it still wasn't enough. I keep going over all of it and I can't make it stop."

Dadu was quiet for a while. Then he said, "When I was a young fisherman, I went out one morning into a sea that turned wild. I had checked the clouds, read the tide, done all the things my grandfather taught me. And still the storm came. There I was, gripping the oars, going over every rule in my head, should have gone left, should have stayed in, as if holding tighter to the rules would save me."

"What did you do?" Aarav whispered.

"There was an old sailor with me. He put his hand on mine and said, 'You have done your part, boy. Now let go of all of it. Stop fighting. Trust the sea and trust me, and just hold on to the boat.' And I did. I let go of all my should-haves. And do you know — the moment I stopped carrying the whole storm on my own shoulders, I could breathe again. We came home safe."

He turned to Aarav. "You have done your best. That part is finished. Now set down all the rules and all the should-haves. You don't have to fix it or carry it any longer. Hand it to me, and to the sky, and to whatever holds us all. Let it go."

Aarav let out a long breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The tight knot in his chest came loose, all at once, like a fist opening.

"That's it," said Dadu softly. "That feeling. That's the deepest rest there is. You stop gripping the rope — and you find you were being held the whole time. Don't grieve, my boy. Don't grieve."

They sat together on the warm steps. Somewhere far off, a kite climbed into the evening sky, and Aarav watched it without needing to hold it at all.