The twenty minutes passed too quickly.

Priya stood in the bathroom and cleaned only what would show—her face, her hands, the visible skin of her neck and collarbones. Between her legs she left everything untouched. Her father’s newest load still sat warm and thick inside her; every small movement sent a slow trickle down her inner thigh. She pulled the fresh salwar up carefully, feeling the soft cotton immediately begin to dampen. The kurti hung loose enough to hide the worst of it. When she looked at herself in the mirror her cheeks were still faintly flushed, her mouth slightly swollen from the afternoon’s unrestrained kissing. There was nothing she could do about that.