Disha stirred awake to the relentless patter of rain against the narrow dorm window, her body a leaden weight pinned to the mattress by exhaustion. The previous night's party had been a whirlwind of excess—drinks flowing like rivers, bodies grinding in the dim lights of the frat house, and then the aftermath with Aryan that had left her marked in more ways than one. The small, angry red "A" branded on her ass cheek throbbed with every subtle shift of her hips, a constant reminder of his ownership, etched into her skin during their heated session. It wasn't a real brand, of course—just a temporary one from a heated tool he'd improvised, but the sting felt eternal this morning. She groaned, pulling the thin blanket tighter around her, her head pounding not from a hangover but from the sheer fatigue of keeping up with his relentless games.