The afternoon sun filtered through the thin curtains of their modest Mumbai flat, casting a warm glow over the living room where Shilpa sat curled up on the old sofa, her legs tucked under her modest salwar kameez. At 22, she was the picture of innocence—long black hair tied in a loose braid, wide doe-like eyes, and a shy smile that never quite reached full confidence around strangers. Her older brother, Rohan, 26, lounged nearby, pretending to scroll through his phone while his gaze lingered on her.

They had always been close, especially after their parents moved to their ancestral village for a few months. Living alone together had made their bond tighter, or so Rohan told himself. But lately, his thoughts had turned darker, hungrier. He wanted more than just sibling affection. He wanted to claim her, slowly, carefully, under the guise of love.