The digital clock on the nightstand glowed at 9:00 PM as Nisarg sprawled on the bed, and eyes… glued to the phone. He was in his usual evening attire— a simple t-shirt and well-worn joggers, perfect for lounging. A sudden click echoed in the room, the sound of the washroom door knob turning. His eyes flicked up.

Anjali emerged from the washroom— a vision in black satin. The robe, barely reaching mid-thigh, clung to her curves…. the spaghetti straps thin against her tanned skin. The deep V-neck offered a generous, deep view of her cleavage, a sight that never failed to stir something within him, even after all these years. He watched her…. captivated, as she moved with a dancer's grace.