She tilts her chin up, dark eyes pulling yours in before you've decided to look. The question isn't in her words — it's in the slow curl of her fingers, the way her dupatta slips just enough to make your breath catch.

You notice the small things first: the kohl tracing her lids, the faint smirk that says she already knows your answer. Her skin glows warm against the soft light, every detail deliberate, nothing accidental.

She's not waiting for you to be ready. She's deciding whether you deserve her attention — and right now, she's still making up her mind.