That evening, dinner was exceptionally silent for Anand and Bhoomika. Not that they shared any conversation otherwise. They hardly spoke to each other. And even when they did, it was barely a handful of words, only because it was essential. When in close quarters, there was always an air of unrest, of uncertainty.

Anand was unpredictable. One could never figure out when he’d snap and for what. As of now, it was so quiet that one could even hear their fingers touching their dinner plates.

Anand tore out a piece of the roti, dipped it in the sabzi, and stuffed it into his mouth. Visibly, it looked appealing to anyone,...