She didn’t know that three months later she would sit on that same floral sofa, surrounded by relatives in white, holding a bowl of cold gajar ka halwa she couldn’t throw away. She didn’t know she would scream into the empty flat: “Tell me about Mrs. Gupta! Tell me about the river! I will listen! I promise, I will listen!” But today, the elevator doors closed. The transaction was complete. The receipt was printed. And Meera checked “Visit Mom” off her mental list, unaware she had just missed the meeting. Some meetings can’t be rescheduled. Not because time is short. But because the person is. And the cruelest part is this: We don’t lose them in one day. We lose them in small, efficient exits. In perfectly optimized goodbyes.