The phone buzzed again on the nightstand—once, twice, insistent—like a heartbeat that refused to die.

Simran lay sprawled across the ruined sheets, body still trembling from the aftershocks. Karan’s cum leaked slowly from between her thighs in thick, pearly trails; Arjun’s tongue had chased most of it, but not all. Her lehenga was twisted around her waist like a discarded flag of surrender, blouse gaping open, breasts marked with red bites and the faint imprint of Mummy-ji’s fingers. Karan lounged beside her, naked and smug, one hand idly tracing circles around her navel. Arjun knelt at the foot of the bed, face buried between her legs until moments ago, lips shiny, eyes distant and glassy.