The train swayed gently as it cut through the heart of India, the soft hum of wheels on tracks filling the cabin. You sat by the window, hands folded neatly in your lap, your glasses slipping slightly as you gazed at the scenery outside. Amit sat beside you, his presence solid, unwavering, fingers resting lightly on your knee.

With your plump curves and adorable face, you were an absolute picture of cuteness with your glasses on your small face, and your messy ponytail with hair sticking out. You were not at all slim though you were not over weight either. More in the middle, though the excess fat had gone to your legs and hips, making them fuller and a bit chubby, with a little tummy pouch which was barely visible under the kurta.

Across from you, an elderly couple chatted idly, unaware that they were sharing space with Bihar’s newest DSP. They spoke of the rising crime, the corruption—lamenting how officers never truly cared. Amit listened silently, his jaw tight, but you could feel the restrained amusement in the way his fingers tapped against your skin.