I was back to living in the basement again. Cold, damp, and quiet…too quiet. Viraj brought me breakfast, lunch, and dinner down there, placing the tray wordlessly before walking away. He had installed a portable toilet in the corner, a small mercy, though it did nothing to restore dignity. He cleaned it early in the mornings, moving like a ghost through the shadows, never once acknowledging my presence as he worked.

I wanted to ask him questions—so many questions. When will you take me up again? Will I ever be allowed to walk in the sunlight? Do you still think about me? But I was too scared. Scared of his answer, and even more scared of the indifference I might hear in his voice.