The morning after the hotel night still felt like a fever dream.

Kiran could still taste jiju on her tongue, could still feel the ghost of his fingers digging bruises into her hips while she was bent over the backseat, tits swinging free, moaning like a cheap porn clip. Vikram had driven them the whole way—steady hands on the wheel, eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror every time jiju told her to “open wider, baby.” She’d come twice with Vikram’s reflection watching, and once more when jiju shoved her head down and finished in her mouth. The driver had never said a word, but the bulge in his khaki trousers had been impossible to miss.

Now it was barely nine a.m. and the entire family was scattered—husband off on calls, jiju vanished to some meeting, in-laws at a temple run. Kiran remembered the long list of “little gifts and spices her mother-in-law had rattled off the night before. Someone had to go to the old market, an hour out of town. Guess who drew the short straw.

She threw on the first thing her hands touched: soft grey track pants that hugged her ass and a thin white T-shirt. Plain cotton bra underneath, nothing fancy. Her nipples were still sensitive from jiju’s teeth, poking against the fabric the second the lobby AC kissed her skin. Hair in a messy bun, sunglasses on, she marched out to the porte-cochère.

Vikram was already there, leaning against the white Fortuner, uniform crisp, sleeves rolled up to show thick forearms, sunglasses hiding whatever was going on in his head. He opened the rear door out of habit. She shook her head.

“Back seat’s going to be full of bags. I’ll sit in front.”

He gave the tiniest nod, shut the door, and walked around and opened the front instead. She caught the flicker of his eyes over her chest as she slid in. Seatbelt clicked between her breasts, pressing the cotton tighter. He shut the door, walked around slowly, got in. Engine purred to life.

The drive to the market was quiet except for the radio playing some old Kumar Sanu song. Kiran kept her thighs pressed together, pretending the throb between her legs was just leftover from last night. Vikram drove like nothing had happened, but every time they stopped at a signal she felt his gaze slide sideways, lingering on the swell of side-boob the seatbelt created.