His breath changed. Almost imperceptibly.
Reyansh stood up. He walked to a camera on a tripod—an old Rolleiflex, film still inside. "Let me show you."
"Now," he said, crouching to her level, his face inches from her knee. "Without opening your eyes… imagine that the silk beneath your saree isn't fabric. It's a secret. And I want to know that secret."
"I don't know what story that is," she whispered.
Reyansh smiled. It was a slow, dangerous curve of the mouth.
His breath changed. Almost imperceptibly.
Reyansh stood up. He walked to a camera on a tripod—an old Rolleiflex, film still inside. "Let me show you."
"Now," he said, crouching to her level, his face inches from her knee. "Without opening your eyes… imagine that the silk beneath your saree isn't fabric. It's a secret. And I want to know that secret."
"I don't know what story that is," she whispered.
Reyansh smiled. It was a slow, dangerous curve of the mouth.
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