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Her first salary had just been credited. Twenty-three thousand, four hundred rupees. It wasn’t a fortune, but to Neha, it felt like a gold mine. She had moved to the city three months ago, surviving on instant noodles and hope. Now, finally, she could buy her mother that air conditioner. She could pay her security deposit.
The glow of the laptop screen was the only light in Neha’s small studio apartment. Outside, the Mumbai rain hammered against the window, a steady, angry drumbeat. Inside, she was staring at a blinking cursor.