Neha lay in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, her small frame curled against her chacha's broad chest. The house was silent except for the distant hum of crickets outside. Her parents had left that morning for a family wedding in the village, leaving her behind because of her exams. At 18, she felt the weight of being alone, especially with her chacha, who had come to stay and keep an eye on her. She hugged him tighter in her sleep, seeking comfort from the emptiness gnawing at her heart.

Her chacha, a burly man in his forties with rough hands from years of labor, stirred awake. He felt her soft body pressed against him, her salwar kameez thin and clinging in the humid night. 'Kya hua, Neha? Kyun itni sad lag rahi hai?' he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, one hand gently stroking her hair.