The village lane was quiet by the time Kartik’s jeep came to a stop in front of her house. The moon bathed everything in silver—except for her.
Naira, in her sleeveless and backless blue saree, shimmered under the streetlight like something he wasn’t meant to touch but already had. The wind stirred the pallu around her like a whisper of warning. Her hair, half undone from the night’s chaos, curled around her shoulders with soft defiance.
Write a comment ...