
The next day dragged like something heavy and wet.
Kabir left early again. The cook came, worked, and left by mid-afternoon. After that the house fell into its usual thick silence. Ananya tried to stay busy. She folded clothes that were already folded. She wiped counters that were already clean. Every sound made her flinch—the creak of the old wooden staircase, the distant hum of the refrigerator, the soft tick of the wall clock in the living room.






















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