The house was alive with chaos that night. My sister Riya had turned our Jaipur home into a pulsing nightclub the second our parents left town. Bass thumped through the walls, red and blue lights flickered from cheap party bulbs, empty beer bottles rolled across the floor, and bodies pressed together in every dark corner. The air smelled like cheap vodka, sweat, and teenage lust.

I stayed on the edges, nursing a warm drink, trying not to look too obvious. Then the front door opened and she walked in.