His lips found hers again, as though he couldn’t pull himself away, as though once wasn’t enough. His hand tightened around hers against the table, pinning them in place, stopping even the slightest attempt at resistance. His eyes moved over her face once more, but this time there was a shift in them—something darker, something more intent, as if he was seeing her differently now.

“Tu waqai mein bahut khoobsurat hai,” (You are truly very beautiful) he said, his breath coming out uneven, almost restrained, as though her disheveled state had caught somewhere in his throat and refused to let him breathe properly.