Rimi Bhasthi Part 1: The Silence in the Hallway It was always the hallway where she first heard herself disappear. The long, echoing corridor of the Sharma household carried more than footsteps and scoldings—it carried absence. Asha, seventeen, was the kind of girl people described in passing as “quiet but clever,” the kind whose achievements were applauded just enough to not feel threatening. She had learned early that noise—especially from girls—was suspicious. The house had three women and five men, and even the walls seemed to know who mattered. Her mother, Meenakshi, moved like a shadow behind her husband, wiping…