Friday evening felt different from the start. The air in Tarikere was warm and still, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from nearby gardens. Priya had spent the previous two days in a constant state of quiet restlessness. Every night she replayed the moments at the blackboard — Arjun sir’s body so close behind her, his fingers brushing hers, the low rumble of his voice near her ear. She had touched herself again last night, more boldly this time, whispering “sir” under her breath as waves of unfamiliar pleasure washed over her. She felt guilty, yet the ache only grew stronger.

She arrived at exactly 6:22 PM, wearing a soft white salwar kameez with subtle golden embroidery. The fabric was lighter than usual, the kameez fitting snugly around her young breasts and narrow waist. Her dupatta was sheer, almost translucent in the right light. Her braid hung down her back, but she had left her hair slightly looser today, a few silky strands framing her flushed face.