The days bled into weeks, a thick, heavy silence filling our home. Dad was away on an extended business trip, a whole month of aching quiet. My mother moved through the house like a ghost, her eyes always avoiding mine. She stopped wearing the deep-cut blouses, opting for loose, formless kurtas that did nothing to hide the new fullness in her breasts or the subtle curve beginning to swell her lower belly.

I tried to talk to her once. The words felt like gravel in my mouth. “Maa… you… you can’t keep it. You have to… get rid of it.”