They finished the breakfast. The pancakes were gone. Only a smear of chocolate syrup remained on Shivangi's plate, a dark comma against the white ceramic. She leaned back in her chair, her naked body still humming with the residual glow of her last orgasm, her skin tacky with dried chocolate in places Harshad's tongue had missed. Across the table, he watched her with those dark, unreadable eyes—sated but never satisfied, always calculating the next move.

"You're staring," shivangi said, a lazy smile curving her lips.