“1080p,” Arjun whispered. “Every petal. Every pore. You never knew I was watching.”

Meera froze. That wasn’t a line from their home videos. She had never heard him say that.

The frame jumped. Arjun’s voice, low and amused: “See how it climbs? It doesn’t ask permission. It just takes.”

The video skipped again. Now the balcony was empty. No chair, no drying towels, no clay pot. Just the bougainvillea, creeping toward the door. And the door was open.

She tried to close the player. The screen went black. Then it resumed.