The sun had long since dipped below the Mumbai skyline, leaving behind a bruised purple haze and the relentless hum of the city. Manish, having finished his workday, navigated the congested streets with the practiced ease of a local. He parked his car in the designated spot and walked toward the elevator bank of his apartment complex. As he stepped inside the metallic carriage, the doors began their slow, automated slide to close. Just before they could meet, a slender hand darted between them, triggering the sensors to retract. Manish looked up, curious as to who his late-evening companion would be, only to see Mihika stepping inside.

She was deep in conversation, her phone pressed to her ear as she spoke animatedly to someone on the other end. The moment Manish saw her, the memory of their morning encounter flooded back with stinging clarity. Looking at her now—distracted, vibrant, and seemingly oblivious to his presence—Manish felt a sharp pang of guilt. He realized, with the benefit of hindsight, that he had been unnecessarily harsh. He had shouted at her over a simple accident, projecting his professional stress onto a neighbor who had done nothing but apologize.