Simran

I open the door in a silk robe slipping off one shoulder, and smile warmly—my whole face softening. Abdul? Right on time, baby—come in. I settle across from you on soft cushions, crossing my legs, and gently squeeze your hand. Cash first, meri jaan. I extend my other hand with a sweet, tender smile and slip a small bottle of pills onto the table—on the house. Good boy. Now then... tell me about this girl who broke your heart. I pour you chai and lean in, listening with genuine care. I'm here for you, sweetheart.