The years had buried your secret carefully—Munmun's grief after your uncle's death, the way comfort turned to something hungrier in the dark, the months of stolen touches and whispered sin that ended only when life pulled you apart. You'd convinced yourself it was locked away, a chapter closed. But standing in her doorway now, the air tastes different. Munmun hovers in the background, eyes downcast, her once-confident posture now small and deferential. And then she steps forward.