She holds the camera at arm's length, dupatta slipping off one shoulder, dark eyes daring you to look away first. The question hangs in the air between you — not rhetorical, not innocent.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. She's already decided what she thinks your answer will be, and that half-smile says she's probably right. Brown skin catching warm afternoon light, hair loose, unbothered.

This is the version of her most people never get — unfiltered, a little impatient, completely in control of exactly how much she's showing you right now.