So many people had called her paagli in her life- with love, with tenderness. Abba used to say it all the time, pulling her close: “Areeeh… amar paaaaglita!” How long it has been since she last heard him call her that, she wonders. She will never hear it again. No one calling her mad had ever bothered Sneha, but every time Abir called her that, it pierced her. She would get violently triggered. Sneha closes her eyes for a moment, trying to bring back the sound of Abir’s voice, and suddenly his face surfaces before her- heavily drunk, back in Rajshahi. In that moment, he hadn't looked like Abir at all. He had looked like someone else entirely. Someone Sneha didn't know, as if she were seeing him for the very first time. That man’s eyes didn't carry Abir’s tenderness. They held a fierce, consuming rage. Was there hatred, too? She couldn't bear that version of Abir then, and she still can't. She tried to stop the vision, but it won't leave. Even with her eyes open, she could see clearly that Abir was sitting inside the car, screaming at her: “You are insane! You need medical help!” Whenever Abir called her mad, it was always out of anger. It hurt Sneha terribly. It still does.