The morning air was cool as it drifted through the stone lattice of my small chamber. A soft pink saree hung on the wall hook — plain, unembellished, a far cry from what I once wore... but this one, it felt like me. Or at least, who I was now. I draped it over my body, wrapping the loose end tightly around my shoulder, as if it could somehow shield me from the world’s gaze.

The sting of last night still lingered on my skin — the brush of his breath on my neck, the warmth of his hands, the way his lips had claimed me under the moonlight. My body ached in the sweetest way, but more than that, it remembered. And with every memory came a tug at my heart, reckless and dangerous.