Eklavya sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the empty coffee cup in his hands. The faint hum of the ceiling fan above him filled the room, but his thoughts were louder, swirling in a chaotic storm. Ruhani's words played over and over in his mind, like a haunting melody he couldn't escape.

"Maybe instead of trying to forget, you need to learn how to carry it without letting it destroy you."

The simplicity of her statement infuriated him. It sounded so easy when she said it, as if grief were a bag he could simply rearrange on his shoulders. Yet, here he was, barely able to function, drowning in memories that clawed at him every second.

And yet, despite the turmoil, he found himself standing outside the brothel again. His rational mind screamed at him to turn back, to leave this place behind, but his feet betrayed him. He didn't even know why he was here. Was it curiosity? Restlessness? Or was it her? The woman with the cigarette and the piercing gaze who had seen through him with terrifying ease.

The inside of the brothel was just as garish and suffocating as he remembered. The same heavy perfume, the same hollow laughter, the same cloying music. Yet this time, he noticed more-the faded paint on the walls, the fraying edges of the carpets, the dullness in the women's eyes despite their vibrant smiles.

He moved forward, his eyes scanning the room almost instinctively. He spotted Ruhani immediately. She was sitting on a plush armchair, her legs crossed elegantly, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. Her hair was pulled back today, revealing the sharp angles of her face. She looked composed, almost regal, even in the chaos surrounding her.

But she wasn't alone.

A man sat beside her, his hand resting possessively on her thigh. He was probably in his late forties, his suit wrinkled and tie loosened, reeking of alcohol and entitlement. Ruhani's expression was unreadable, but there was a faint smile on her lips-a practiced one, meant to appease.

Ruhani caught sight of him and raised an eyebrow. "Eklavya ji," she called out, her voice carrying over the noise. "Back so soon? I thought I told you this place isn't for someone like you."

He hesitated but walked over, his movements stiff and awkward. The man sitting with her glanced at him briefly before turning his attention back to Ruhani.

"I... I don't know why I'm here," Eklavya admitted, his voice low.

Ruhani smirked, taking a drag from her cigarette. "Honest as always. Sit, if you like. Or don't. Makes no difference to me."

Before he could respond, the man leaned closer to Ruhani, murmuring something in her ear. She nodded, extinguishing her cigarette in the ashtray. "Duty calls," she said, rising gracefully to her feet. She turned to Eklavya, her eyes sharp. "Stay if you want, but don't say I didn't warn you."

Eklavya watched as she led the man down a dimly lit hallway, her hips swaying with practiced ease. He wanted to leave, to escape this suffocating place, but his feet remained rooted to the floor.

He waited. He didn't know why, but he stayed in the main hall, his foot tapping nervously against the floor. He felt as if the minutes stretched into an hour, and every second felt like an eternity.

Then he heard it.

A muffled moan. A low grunt. The creak of a bed.

It was coming from the corridor.

His stomach churned. Rationally, he knew what happened here. He wasn't naïve. But knowing and seeing were two very different things.

The noises grew louder, and he found himself staring at the closed door at the end of the hallway. He hated himself for looking, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. His mind raced with thoughts he couldn't control, each one more intrusive than the last.

When the door finally opened, Ruhani stepped out. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her makeup was smudged, but her composure was intact. The man followed, his face flushed and his grin smug as he adjusted his suit. He didn't even glance at Eklavya as he walked past and handed her a wad of cash. Eklavya felt his stomach churn.

"Is this what you do?" he blurted out, the words escaping before he could stop them.

Ruhani raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. "What did you think I do, janab? Host tea parties?"

He swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had known, of course. That was the reality of this place. But seeing it, watching her disappear down that hallway with another man-it felt different. It felt... wrong.

"How can you..." he started, then stopped, struggling to find the right words. "How can you let someone... use you like that?"

Ruhani's expression hardened, the teasing light in her eyes dimming. "Let someone use me?" she repeated, her voice low and sharp. "Is that what you think this is?"

Eklavya didn't respond, his discomfort evident.

She took a step closer, her gaze piercing. "Tell me, Eklavya ji, what do you do for a living?"

"I... I work in finance," he said, his voice hesitant.

"And you sell your time, your skills, your energy, don't you?" she asked, her tone icy.

"It's not the same," he said defensively.

"Isn't it?" she shot back. "I sell my body; you sell your mind. Both of us do what we have to, to survive in a world that doesn't care about us."

Eklavya flinched at her words, but before he could respond, a younger woman approached them. She was dressed in a bright red saree, her makeup heavy, and her smile practiced.

"Ruhani di, there's someone asking for you," she said, her tone polite but hesitant.

Ruhani nodded, her demeanor softening slightly. "I'll be there in a moment," she said, dismissing the girl with a wave of her hand.

She turned back to Eklavya, her expression unreadable. "You're disgusted, aren't you?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

He hesitated but nodded. "I don't... I don't understand how you can do this. How anyone can."

Ruhani studied him for a moment, then sighed, her shoulders sagging ever so slightly. "You think this is what I wanted? You think any of us here chose this life because it's our dream? No, janab. We do this because we have to. Because the world doesn't give us any other choice."

Her words hit him like a blow, and he looked away, shame creeping up his neck. He had judged her, judged all of them, without truly understanding their reality.

Ruhani leaned closer, her voice soft but firm. "You don't have to like it. You don't even have to understand it. But don't you dare pity me. I'm not a victim, Eklavya ji. I'm a survivor. And that's more than most people can say."

He nodded, unable to meet her gaze. The weight of her words settled heavily on his chest, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.

As she walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway once more, Eklavya sat in silence, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. He didn't know why he had come here or what he had hoped to find. But one thing was clear-Ruhani was not the person he had imagined her to be. She was something far more complicated, far more human.

And for the first time in a long while, Eklavya found himself questioning everything he thought he knew about the world.