Ananya did not sleep that night.

Every time she closed her eyes she felt Rohan’s fingers again—slick, precise, relentless—circling her clit until she broke apart against a rain-streaked wall. She could still taste his mouth. She could still feel the phantom suction of his lips around her nipple. By three in the morning she was so wet that the sheet beneath her had grown damp. She pressed her face into the pillow and slid two fingers between her legs, biting down hard to stay silent while Meher breathed evenly on the other bed. The orgasm was sharp and unsatisfying, leaving her more restless than before.