The ceiling fan wobbled above Preeti, its blades slicing through thick cigarette smoke as laughter erupted from the couch. Her father’s friend Raj, cheeks flushed beneath his salt-and-pepper stubble, slammed his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. "Another round, Deepak!" he bellowed, nudging Preeti’s father. "Or are you too old to keep up?" Preeti’s mother, Barsha, quietly gathered empties, her sari pallu slipping off her shoulder as she moved.

Raj leaned forward suddenly, his eyes glinting. "Bhabhi your boobs are looking so soft. Hickup." The words hung heavy, met with uneasy chuckles. Preeti's father Deepak waved a dismissive hand, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Shut up Raj, you're drunk." Across the room, Preeti's mother Barsha froze mid-step, the empties clinking in her trembling hands.