Viraj came down the next day at his usual time, calm and composed as if the night before…my screaming, the fight, his punishment…had never happened. If he still harbored anger for my outburst, he didn’t show it. His face was unreadable, his mood disturbingly placid. Like always, he carried me upstairs without a word, and I didn’t resist. I stayed quiet, not wanting to provoke him again.

We ate in silence. The only sound was the clink of cutlery and the occasional buzz of his phone. He scrolled through it absently, not sparing me a glance. I kept my eyes fixed on my plate, too tired to eat but too afraid not to.