I've spent years perfecting the role of the perfect Indian woman. I was the soft-spoken stepdaughter, the dutiful wife, the nurturing stepmother. I even taught at the college my husband owns, smiling sweetly at parents, guiding with a gentle hand. Everyone thought I was an angel, pure and proper. But inside, I was rotting with desires i didnt know i had. I'd stand at the front of the classroom, my dupatta neatly pinned, while my mind wanted to spiral into filthy fantasies- I'd blush, stammer, and play innocent, but my body ached for someone to see through the act and ruin me. i present before you all a glimpse of my desire