The second message arrived at sunset.
Priya had spent the entire day in a state of agitated suspension, checking her phone every few minutes, replaying the garden meeting in her mind until the details blurred into a watercolor of sensation. His laugh. His confession. The weight of his palm against her cheek. The way he had said please like a word he was learning for the first time. By late afternoon she was pacing the mansion's veranda, her grandmother's diary abandoned in a chair, the ruby choker a constant reminder of the man she could not stop thinking about.
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