The courtyard of Sunrise Orphanage was quiet that evening, bathed in the soft glow of a setting sun. The world outside the red-brick walls seemed distant, almost unreal. But for Aarohi, Ishani, and Meera, the horizon beyond those walls was a canvas waiting to be painted with their dreams.

Aarohi sat on the stone bench, fingers tracing the edge of a small, homemade cake she had prepared earlier. She imagined it displayed on the sleek white counters of a Michelin-star kitchen, garnished with perfection, served to diners who would marvel at her creations. The thought sent a thrill down her spine. Cooking here was survival; cooking out there would be art, passion, and purpose.