## Nandu's POV

After the lizard drama and my heart still racing from that wild, imagined run-in with Harsha, I retreated to Sowmya's room, hugging a bottle to my lips and guzzling water like I'd crossed a desert. Maths became our world, pencils racing, my mind only half on theorems—my body still humming from steamy dreams and stray glances.

Time blurred—mornings spilling into humid, sluggish afternoons. Just as yawns took over, Sowmya's mom returned, her voice rich with love and no-nonsense concern: "Have you girls had lunch?" 
Sowmya grumbled, "No, ma." I shot her a look—same reaction I have when my own mom asks and food's the last thing on my mind. But, like all moms, there was no escape from mealtime. She shepherded us downstairs, and we tucked into a thali that ended with the emotional, magical bite of curd rice. How is it that every South Indian meal somehow makes you feel hugged by your ancestors with that final spoon?

Back upstairs, sleep crept in—our bellies full, our homework plans dissolving into soft giggles and slow, sinking eyes.

### Sowmya's POV

I can never resist Nandu's charm—she waltzes into a room with this wild warmth and adorable boldness. Today, her cropped top outlined every irresistible curve, those big, perfect buns drawing my eyes again and again. When she lifted her arms to tie her messy bun, her armpit flashed, a waft of something so chocolatey it had me sniffing the air like a puppy in a bakery.

"Are you wearing chocolate perfume?" I teased.

She snorted, shaking her head. "Sowmy, do I look rich enough for perfume?" 
"That smell!" 
She wrinkled her nose, sniffed herself. "Nope, all natural, baby!" 
I laughed. "Maybe it's your soap?" 
Nandu leaned close, her crop top stretching tight across her chest. 
"Sowmy, honestly? I got so freaked out by maths—didn't even bathe!" 
"Cheee, yuk, Nandu!" I joked, though secretly I thought, If she smells this good with no effort, the gods must have made her out of cocoa beans and trouble.

With a full lunch, we both capitulated to afternoon naps, tangled up in blankets, the rain a soft tap-dance on the mansion windows.

### Nandu's POV

Napping at Sowmya's felt like childhood and freedom rolled up; we woke up only because of a knock that sent a nervous shiver through me. Sowmya shuffled to the door, hair wild and yawning, and—of course—it was Harsha. The first person in my waking or my dreams to have ever tasted my nipple (even if he doesn't know it).

The rain lingered, drums on the roof, and soon it was time to head home. I phoned Teja, asking for the usual pick-up spot. As we waited, Sowmya offered, "Why call Teja in this rain? My cousin can drop you." In my head: Sowmya girl, you don't know what your 'innocent' cousin's been up to in my imagination today.

"No, thanks!" I insisted—Teja, with his scooter and rain covers, soon zipped up to the house. Seeing him soaked but smiling, a sense of relief and warmth spread through me.

As I climbed on behind, jacket zipped to hide everything, Teja caught sight of Sowmya waving from the porch. 
"That her? The mansion queen you said I should flirt my way into?" he joked. 
"She's two years older, mister dreamer!" I laughed, water dripping down my nose as we zoomed home through the pooled city lights.

But the rain covered more than our hair—my crop top turned transparent, nipples poking through the fabric like two shy, blushing secrets. Thank god for my jean jacket, protector of modesty and destroyer of accidental strip shows.

Dad was waiting, of course—furious at our recklessness. 
"You'll catch a cold riding in the rain right before exams!" 
Teja, ever the escape artist, threw me under the bus: 
"Akka made me! She's the reason I was out at all!" 
How quickly my little brother turns traitor! Face down, I accepted dad's scolding, knowing Teja was already halfway out the door with a victorious grin.

### Night: Calm After the Storm

After dinner, I changed into my favorite oversized nightshirt and pants, hoping to hide my "god-given gifts"—but even under layers, my breasts made themselves known, the line of my cleavage peeking out and daring the world to comment. No late-night mirror moments tonight—just three blankets, comfort food, and the steady drum of rain, wishing my brain would store every formula for the maths exam tomorrow.

Sleep finally swept me away, no steamy chaos, no crazy drama—only the sweet promise of a new day, wild dreams tucked beneath every layer.