Priya’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears as she quietly climbed the stairs to the terrace at 1:20 AM. The entire house was silent. Rahul was in deep sleep downstairs, exhausted after a long Sunday with family. The servants had gone to their quarters. The neighborhood around the Greater Kailash bungalow was dark and quiet, with only the occasional distant dog bark breaking the stillness.

She was dressed exactly as Vikram had commanded — a thin, almost transparent white cotton saree with a deep, backless blouse that barely contained her heavy breasts. No bra. No panties. The pallu was loosely draped, ready to slip off at any moment. The mangalsutra shone between her cleavage, and fresh sindoor marked her as a married woman. Her long hair was open, cascading down her back, and her bare feet made no sound on the cool marble steps.