Author's POV:

Keshav was lying motionless on the bed in Malav’s house, his gaze fixed blankly on the ceiling fan that rotated lazily above him. The whirring sound was steady, rhythmic—almost like the ticking of time mocking him for being stuck in the same place while the world moved on. The faint hum of traffic outside mixed with the soft rustle of curtains as a mild breeze entered through the half-open window. The evening light slanted across his face, dimming and brightening as clouds drifted across the sun.