It had been a month since Siya was thrown out of the Malhotra house.

Finding a place to live in a city that never slept had been almost impossible, but she had managed to rent a small apartment the same day she started looking. The building was old—its paint peeling, the staircase narrow and winding. There was no lift, and her room sat high on the fourth floor. Every step left her breathless, but she told herself it was worth it. It was hers.