A girl, her arm lazily draped over him, swayed slightly, her voice thick with drink, yet carrying that intoxicating mix of playfulness and desire. She looked at him, eyes half-lidded, lips curling in a teasing smile. “Tum kharbuje ke sakal ke insaan srif Ahaan hi ho sakte ho.”

Ahaan’s chest tightened, his face flushing deeper, the alcohol and drugs mingling to make every word she spoke feel like fire crawling along his skin. Her gaze held him captive, warm and daring at the same time. “Jab khud kadu jaise sakal ki ho to log bhi vaise hi dikhate hai,” he replied, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, but his heart betrayed him with a violent, erratic rhythm.