Divya looked at him innocently, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "But... you were the one who held your hand out," she said, her tone a little too sweet, her eyes dancing with mischief.
The village chief was left speechless, blinking in disbelief. What the hell? How could this woman actually think he'd ask for a used handkerchief—one with snot on it, no less? He could feel the frustration bubbling up, but the sympathy he'd forced himself to feel for her pitiful widow status kept him in check. He took a deep breath—two, maybe three—to calm himself. After all, he had to maintain some sense of dignity. Then, with a smile that was more of a grimace, he tried again. "Miss, please hand over your ID card."
