Her eyes softened as she took his bag, her voice casual. My desi “You’re mine,” she whispered, her tone possessive, sensual.She wrapped her legs around him, locking him in, her breath hot against his ear. Sakshi’s hands roamed his body, tracing the rolls of his stomach and pulling him closer. The slap was a memory, the sadness gone. “I’ve seen how you look at me. “Sakshi,” he rasped, testing the name, savouring it. They collapsed, tangled and panting, the mat damp beneath them.For a long moment, they lay there, the silence heavy with what they’d done. The mat creaked beneath them, the village night swallowing their cries. The village faded behind him as he boarded a rickety bus, his mind a tangle of regret.Meanwhile, Sakshi sat alone in the house, the broom idle in her hands.
