The notification pinged on Aarav’s phone. It wasn’t a match. It was a screenshot. One of his "Bros"—a group of high-functioning alcoholics he called friends—had sent a picture to their WhatsApp group. It was a photo of Aarav sitting on the floor of the Gurudwara, washing dishes in the Langar (community kitchen). Someone had snapped it secretly. The caption read: "Sau chuhe khake billi Haj ko chali." (After eating a hundred rats, the cat goes on a pilgrimage.) A barrage of laughing emojis followed. "Bro, are you okay? Did you go broke?" "Look at him acting like a saint. Last week he was at the club, today he is washing spoons." "Repentance arc loading... 😂" Aarav stared at the screen. His face burned. The idiom hit home. It was the classic Indian insult for a hypocrite—the sinner who suddenly feigns piety. To his friends, his shift from "Dating App King" to "Community Server" wasn’t growth; it was a joke. It was a performance. He felt the old urge to defend himself. I’m not fake, he wanted to type. I’m just tired of being empty. But his fingers froze.