Aarav Mehta had never been the kind of person people noticed when he entered a room.

At twenty-two, he was slim and delicate-looking, with fair skin, soft features, and dark, shoulder-length hair that he always left open. There was something almost feminine about his appearance, especially when he kept his eyes lowered the way he had learned to do over the years. He spoke quietly, walked quietly, and had developed the habit of making himself as unobtrusive as possible whenever other people were around.