After everyone had gone to bed the house settled into that deep quiet that only comes late at night. Ishita lay awake for a while listening to the distant hum of the ceiling fan and the soft breathing from the other rooms. The air felt cooler than usual and she remembered the extra blankets stacked in the terrace store. She pushed the thin quilt aside, slipped her feet into soft slippers and quietly left her room.

The staircase to the terrace was narrow and wooden. She climbed carefully so the steps would not creak too loudly. At the top she lifted the heavy trapdoor and climbed into the small storage room under the water tank. The space smelled of old wood, mothballs and dust. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with folded blankets, spare pillows, boxes of old clothes and a few discarded suitcases. She switched on the single bare bulb that hung from the ceiling. Yellow light spilled across the floor.