Lata wiped the sweat from her brow as she folded the last of the laundry. The small two-bedroom apartment in the narrow lanes of Mumbai felt even more cramped today. At 19, she had taken on most of the household chores after her father’s death two years ago. Her mother, Meena, worked long shifts as a nurse at the local hospital, leaving Lata alone most afternoons. The rent had always been a struggle, but lately it had become impossible. Notices had been slipping under the door for weeks.

A sharp knock echoed through the apartment. Lata’s heart jumped. She smoothed her simple salwar kameez and opened the door.