Sins by Ayesha The monsoon air hung thick and sweet over the narrow lane, clinging to Aman’s skin as he watched the moving truck disgorge its contents. He was nineteen, adrift in the liminal space between boyhood and manhood, his college admission letter still crisp on his desk. Then, she emerged. Ayesha Khatun was a vision sculpted from temptation itself, wrapped in the black burkha that was both shield and accentuator....