It felt like we were on the streets. That was the condition. We could have easily gone to a decent hotel or somewhere better, but no—he chose a very unsafe place, and I was on edge. I couldn’t sleep. On the third day, we woke up and decided to return to the apartment to make proper arrangements. Finally, I said, “I’m really hungry; let’s get something to eat.” He acted very concerned and said, “Oh, why not? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” as if I needed to. We had a cup of tea, some bread, and some portion of it was water, and a little portion was milk. That’s it.
It didn’t satiate me at all. We spent the entire day in the new apartment—no talk of food. He just slept while I was awake because hunger doesn’t let you sleep. At 7:00 p.m., we finally got a meal, and guess what? It wasn’t him who got us the meal. It was part of the arrangements because the contract with the accommodation included two meals a day in the rent. The food was really bland, but you can imagine—it felt like heaven. It felt alien to me when I started chewing that food. It was some lentils, maybe an egg, and some rice—just that. But it felt heavenly. Swallowing that first bite was a liberating experience for me. I was dead tired after that, still hungry, but dead tired.
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