The house was silent, the only sound the steady hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of the cricket match on the TV in the living room. Sameer Uncle, her father’s best friend, sat on the plush leather sofa. He was a man of imposing presence—fair-skinned, with a thick, well-groomed beard and a massive, muscular build that seemed to dominate the entire room. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his black polo shirt, and his presence always felt like a heavy, magnetic weight.

Neha walked into the room, her presence cutting through the quiet like a blade. She was wearing a tight, emerald-green kurti that hugged her hourglass figure, the fabric straining over her lush, ample curves. As she leaned over the coffee table to set down a glass of water, the view of her deep neckline made Sameer’s breath hitch.