This was the "Commodity Fetishism" of the heart. Aarav had treated Riya like a product on Amazon—something he could browse, cart, or discard based on his immediate convenience. He assumed she would always be there, in the "Save for Later" list, waiting for when he was ready to "consume" her company. He didn't realize that people are not products. Products have inventory; people have mortality. "She was a person," Aarav whispered, his voice cracking in the sterile silence of the clinic. "She was a whole person." He looked up. Kabir was sitting across from him, staring at the floor. Aarav felt a sudden, desperate need to confess, to purge the poison in his gut. "I ghosted her," Aarav said. Kabir looked up, his eyes hollow. "Who?" "This girl," Aarav turned his phone screen to Kabir. "Riya. She died. An accident, I think. We went on a date. She was sad about her grandmother. I found it boring. I faked an emergency and left. She texted me to return my sunglasses. I didn't reply." Aarav was shaking. "I thought I had infinite options. I thought... 'why settle for her sadness when I can find someone happy?' And now... reading these comments... she was amazing. She was everything I actually wanted. But I was too busy shopping to notice the value of what was in front of me."