Mishti reached the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. As she bent over to fill it with water, she was acutely aware of the way her breasts hung, almost touching the counter. She had caught Ravi staring at her more than once, his eyes ogling her body like a starving man at a banquet. She didn't hate it; in fact, it fueled the fire that burned deep within her, the desire for the kind of attention she knew she shouldn't crave from a man who was supposed to be her guardian. But the day had come when she had had enough of Mr. Patel's leering, and she was ready to give him a piece of her mind. She stormed out the back door, her fists clenched and her eyes blazing.

"Keep your filthy hands to yourself, you pervert!" she shouted across the fence, her voice carrying in the stillness of the afternoon. Mr. Patel jumped back, his eyes wide with surprise and a hint of fear. He hadn't expected the verbal lashing, and certainly not in such a public manner.