The morning sun poured in, cutting through the sheer curtains and landing directly on Piya's face. She stirred, her eyelids fluttering as the world slowly came into focus. A deep, pleasant ache throbbed between her legs, a raw reminder of last night's intensity. A blush crept up her neck, heating her cheeks. Beside her, the space on the bed was cold and empty. She sat up, the thin blanket pooling around her waist, the cool morning air a stark contrast to the lingering heat in her limbs.

A faint clinking sound drifted from the kitchen, followed by the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Raj was awake. Piya's heart did a little flip. She looked around for her clothes, but they were gone. Remembering he had taken them to the laundry, she scanned the room. Her eyes landed on one of Raj's crisp white shirts draped over a chair. Hesitantly, she slid out of bed, her body protesting with every movement, and shrugged the shirt on. The sleeves were too long, the fabric overwhelming her smaller frame, and the hem barely grazed her mid-thigh. It smelled like him—clean soap, a hint of sandalwood, and something uniquely Raj.