Arjun stood in the middle of their small living room, eyeing the few valuable items they still had. The medical bills, the cost of his alcohol, and his complete lack of income had drained every last rupee from Ishita’s savings. Desperation gnawed at him, and he looked around the room with a calculating gaze. The vase in the corner, the small TV, the microwave — items he knew he could pawn off for cash. They were nothing more than things, he thought. Things he needed to part with if he was going to get by.
He reached for the microwave, unplugging it and setting it aside with a hollow resolve. Just as he reached for another item, he heard the door creak open, and Ishita walked in, clutching her handbag, exhaustion etched across her face.
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