Jeremy touches her

"But Jeremy," I said. Mom shot me a look of anger, "Sorry, I meant baba, we don't have Mom's horoscope with us." Jeremy just smiled back at us. "Don't worry, Lachlan. I am skilled in the art of reading horoscopes through the body."

Mom didn't notice when Jeremy’s fingers brushed against the edge of her pallu again, this time lingering a heartbeat too long. "The body does not lie," he murmured, his voice dripping with faux solemnity. He stepped closer, the scent of sandalwood and something darker clinging to his robes. "Priyanka-ji, your energy is blocked. The stars align against you. But I can help—if you trust me." His hand slid down to her wrist, squeezing lightly. Mom just smiled innocently.

"I trust you completely" Mom said. Jeremy continued, "Good. I am able to read your horoscope by studying the celestial alignments of your navel."

Mom gasped slightly, her fingers instinctively tightening around the folds of her saree. "M-my navel?" she stammered. Jeremy nodded, "Yes, but I promise you I will conduct this ritual with the utmost respect. In fact, I will do it over the top of your pallu, ensuring you never need to remove a single piece of clothing."

My stomach dropped with nervousness. Mom trusted him implicitly, nodding eagerly. "Of course, Baba. Whatever you need." She adjusted her pallu, ensuring it draped loosely over her stomach—still modest, still covered—but the way Jeremy's eyes darkened sent a chill down my spine.

He gestured toward a low wooden bench draped in saffron cloth. "Please, lie down." Mom obeyed without hesitation, settling onto the bench with her arms folded over her stomach, her saree pooling around her hips. Jeremy knelt beside her, his robes shifting to reveal a glimpse of his bare thighs beneath—muscular, tanned, nothing like the ascetic he pretended to be. Jeremy settled behind her, his knees pressing into the backs of her thighs. His hands hovered over her waist, fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air before suddenly gripping the fabric of her saree. "The stars... they demand clarity," he murmured, his voice thick with false piety. With one slow tug, he pulled the pallu taut across her stomach, pressing the fabric flush against her skin.

The pallu stretched tight as a drumhead over Mom’s stomach, the sheer fabric clinging to every contour. Through the thin silk, the delicate dip of her navel emerged in perfect relief—a shadowed hollow that shouldn’t have been visible, not like this. Jeremy’s breath hitched audibly, his fingers trembling where they pressed into the fabric, indenting it further against her skin.