The bath stretched into hours, but not from leisurely soaking. Water cooled and was replenished three times because bodies kept tangling, hands kept wandering, and Priya kept demanding that Arjun demonstrate exactly how flexible he had become during his years alone. He had taken her against the marble ledge while Meher watched, her fingers working between her own thighs with slow, deliberate circles. Rajiv had joined them, pressing Priya between his chest and Arjun's back, a sandwich of sweat and steam and muffled cries. Vikram had slipped away unnoticed, his departure marked only by the space he no longer occupied and the fresh carafe of chilled water left on the tray.

Arjun stood before the wide mirror afterward, his skin flushed and tender. There were marks on him now. Priya's teeth on his collarbone, Meher's nail tracks down his ribs, the ghost of Rajiv's mouth on the inside of his thigh. He traced them with his fingertips, not flinching, cataloguing each one like a map of his new belonging.