The taxi ride back to The Leela was a blur of exhausted silence and intertwined fingers. The adrenaline that had fueled their excursion to the Ocean Pearl was fading, replaced by a heavy, languid fatigue that settled deep in their bones.

Dhairya stared out the window as the palm trees whipped by in the darkness. His hand rested on Sarla’s thigh—the bare thigh exposed by the ruined black dress. Her skin was tacky with dried sweat and the remnants of his touch.