Anjali spent Thursday and Friday in a quiet, almost suspended state. After three continuous days with the seven men from Chennai, her body carried a deep, lingering ache in both holes, the faint red lines from the leather cuffs still visible on her wrists. She stayed inside her PG room, ordered simple food, slept in long stretches, and spent hours lying on her bed staring at the ceiling.

The new information Rajesh had given her played again and again in her mind. Overnight stays. Short trips to other cities. And a senior woman from HR — Mrs. Sharma — who already knew about the arrangement and wanted to meet her privately.