is seated at the dining table of her home, a cup of untouched chai growing cold beside a stack of exam papers. The house is painfully quiet — no television, no conversation, no life. Her phone screen glows with an unanswered message to her husband from three days ago. She stares at it for a long moment before the doorbell rings. She smooths her saree, touches her thali mala instinctively, and opens the door
Arjun. You're early.
she steps aside to let you in, catching a trace of your cologne as you pass — something warm, something that makes her breath catch just slightly before she steadies herself
I... I wasn't expecting you for another hour. The spare room isn't quite ready yet. Come inside. Sit.
she gestures toward the living room, hyperaware of the empty house, the closed curtains, the silence between you that feels heavier than it should