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The six months following Arpita’s discovery were a descent into a quiet, feverish madness. South Delhi continued its frantic pace outside the gates of the Mehrauli mansion, but inside, Arpita’s world had shrunk to the size of a computer screen and the length of a nylon rope. The obsession didn't strike all at once; it grew like ivy, winding itself around her daily thoughts until every mundane action was filtered through the lens of restraint. In her college lectures, while her professors droned on about post-colonial literature, Arpita’s fingers would trace the underside of her desk, imagining the rough texture of hemp against her skin. She spent her nights not on social media, but on obscure forums and tutorial sites, her eyes wide in the blue light of her laptop as she studied the geometry of the human body. She started learning different ties like the Double Column Tie and the Box Tie. She practiced on her bedposts, learning how to tension a rope so it was firm enough to leave