I tell my husband on Friday morning that I have a two day offsite with a difficult client in Pune. The lie comes out smooth. He nods, already distracted by his own work emails, and only asks me to text when I reach the hotel. I promise I will. I pack a small bag with two changes of clothes and the black lace set I know Pratham likes. By eleven I am in a cab heading to the airport, not Pune.

Pratham is already at the gate when I arrive. He looks at me over the rim of his coffee like he has been counting the minutes. We do not touch in public. We board separately. Only when the plane levels out and the seatbelt sign pings off does his hand find my thigh under the thin airline blanket. His fingers slide higher until they press against the damp crotch of my panties. I am already wet. I have been wet since I woke up knowing I would have him for two full days with no office and no husband and no Arjun watching.