*

Shristi had sensed Kartik's filthy gaze burning into her during every visit to Rishita's lavish bungalow. Rishita, her chatty bestie, stayed oblivious, gossiping about boys and trends. But Shristi lived for those moments—his eyes raking her deep cleavage, lingering on her ass crack visible through tight leggings.

That afternoon, Rishita dragged Shristi over for 'study time,' but her phone buzzed. "Shit yaar, Mom's forcing mall run for dresses. Hang tight? Dad's home." Rishita bolted, leaving Shristi sprawled on the leather sofa in the cool living room.