He chokes on his roti.
Ronit laughs bitterly.
“72 log dekh rahe the. 72! Aur tum refresh press kar rahe the like a newbie.”
INT. RONIT’S P.G. ROOM – NIGHT
Isha removes her face mask. Her face is raw, real.
He angles the camera. The rain has stopped. The Mumbai skyline is ugly but there’s a single rainbow over the Signal building.
Ronit eats. She watches him silently. He takes a bite, pauses, and holds up his phone to the window.
“Sun.”
On screen, Isha is in a cozy, well-lit room. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie (his, actually) and has a face mask on. She squints.
But her eyes are wet.
Silence. Only rain.
(softly) “I’m not worried about the views. I’m worried about the boy who hasn’t eaten since morning.”
“Tumhari tarah. Badtameez, lekin beautiful.”
