They Found My Weakest Place

The calm I wore at the café felt like another professional costume. I wanted to laugh at how completely I had trusted my own stillness. Now they know about the photographs, and the message did not even insult me. It went straight to Mum and Dad in Jaipur, where my real name still means something.

That frightened me more than Pulkit. Apparently, whoever he is has noticed that I can tolerate a stranger’s family treating me like furniture, but I cannot bear the thought of Mum reading about my life. I wanted to call them. I lifted the phone twice and imagined saying nothing difficult: that I ate, that I was sleeping, that everything was fine. Every version was another lie, and I was sick of hearing them come so easily.

The train through the wall kept making the room sound temporary, as if one loud vibration could shake the evening apart. I sat there until my back hurt. I kept thinking about Sakshi trusting people with her fear while I had spent so long being trusted by families who needed me to perform. Somewhere between those roles, I may have stopped distinguishing who deserved my loyalty and who merely purchased it.

I backed everything up and checked the dates until the numbers stopped feeling real. Evidence can protect Sakshi, but it cannot make me brave. I hate that I needed the threat to become personal before I understood how frightened I had been all along.

If I call Mum tomorrow, I want to hear her complain that I have not eaten properly. I do not want sympathy. I want one ordinary demand strong enough to make the rest of this feel survivable.