[Biosys]

The masterpiece continues...

The Drowning
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The spreadsheet blurred before her eyes. Anu blinked hard and refocused on the quarterly projections, her fingers flying across the keyboard with mechanical precision. If she could just finish this report, if she could just meet this deadline, perhaps the thoughts would stop. Perhaps she could drown the memories in a sea of numbers and deadlines and professional obligations.

"Concentrate," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the office air conditioning. "Bas kaam par dhyan do. Bas yeh file khatam karo." (Just focus on work. Just finish this file.)

But the numbers danced and rearranged themselves into obscene shapes. The column headers became his hands on her thighs. The profit margins became the curve of his smile. She closed her eyes and saw him—always him—standing in her bedroom doorway, watching her with that patient, predatory gaze that seemed to strip away every layer of her carefully constructed respectability.

She stood abruptly, her chair scbanging against the floor. Her colleague looked up from the adjacent cubicle, concerned.
"Anu? Are you okay? You look pale."
"Haan, theek hoon," she said quickly, forcing a smile. (Yes, I'm fine.) "Just need some water. Too much coffee."

In the restroom, she splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection. The woman looking back at her wore a crisp white blouse and a pencil skirt, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, her makeup perfect and professional. She looked like a successful human resources manager. She looked like a faithful wife. She looked like someone who had never begged a servant to stop while her body arched for more.

The lie of her appearance made her want to scream.

She returned to her desk and opened a new document. She would write. She would pour everything into words and then delete them, a digital confession that would leave no trace. Her fingers hovered over the keys.

"Main ek barbaad aurat hoon," she typed. (I am a ruined woman.) "Agar mere pati ko pata chala toh..." (If my husband finds out...)
She couldn't finish the sentence. The shame was too vast, the consequences too terrifying. She deleted the document and emptied the recycle bin, watching the icon disappear as if she could make the truth disappear with it.

The workday ended in a haze of unfinished tasks and forced conversations. She drove home on autopilot, her hands gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. At every traffic light, she closed her eyes and tried to meditate, to clear her mind, to become the woman she had been three days ago.

But the moment she opened her eyes, she saw his face. she felt she was hit by lightning again..