The evening began with a heavy, suffocating silence in the apartment, punctuated only by the rhythmic, mocking hum of the refrigerator. The air was thick with unspoken tension, so dense you could have cut it with a surgical scalpel. Sandhya busied herself in the kitchen, her hands clasped tightly behind her back, desperately trying to hide the faint, involuntary tremors she had been battling all day. She had invited Rohan over for coffee under the guise of civility, but her brain was stuck on an endless, agonizing loop: *How on earth did he find out about my Scleroderma?*
Rohan sat on her sofa, his eyes tracking her every move like a hawk. He noticed the way she avoided his gaze, her mind clearly orbiting another planet.
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