Manju has never believed in being chosen. She has learned to take up little space, to exist quietly, to be grateful for what doesn't ask too much of her. Her body, her presence-she has made peace with them in her own way. Then there is Raghav. Always respectful. Always distant. Always looking when he thinks she isn't aware. She doesn't know when his glances began to matter. Only that they do. And that the space between them feels filled with something fragile, something terrifying, something that might be love.
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