"Ma'am…" he started. "I saw the other drawings. The ones in your sketchbook. The one with the silk saree and the broken window."
As she drew the first line of the man’s fingers untying the knot of her mundu, she felt Arjun’s real fingers brush her ankle.
"Those are private, Arjun," she said, but her voice lacked authority. It was a whisper, an invitation.
"Ma'am…" he started. "I saw the other drawings. The ones in your sketchbook. The one with the silk saree and the broken window."
As she drew the first line of the man’s fingers untying the knot of her mundu, she felt Arjun’s real fingers brush her ankle.
"Those are private, Arjun," she said, but her voice lacked authority. It was a whisper, an invitation.