Meera's POV
I didn't understand what was happening to me.
Something had changed.
Something inside my body.
Inside my mind.
It started after the shower.
After seeing him through that glass.
All of him.
Naked.
Wet.
Perfect.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Couldn't stop seeing it every time I closed my eyes.
And this morning.
Touching him while he slept.
My hand moving on its own.
Exploring places I had no business exploring.
Wanting to go lower.
Needing to go lower.
What was that?
What was wrong with me?
---
I grew up protected.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
My parents loved me.
They also shielded me.
No Bollywood movies with kissing scenes.
No TV shows with adult content.
No conversations about boys or dating or any of it.
When the biology chapter on reproduction came in school, the teacher told us to read it at home.
Alone.
With the door closed.
I read it.
Learned the mechanics.
Sperm meets egg.
Fertilization occurs.
Baby grows.
That was it.
No mention of what led to the sperm meeting the egg.
No mention of feelings.
No mention of desire.
No mention of the heat that flooded my body when Ethan looked at me a certain way.
---
I didn't know what lust was.
Had never felt it.
Had never been taught about it.
Had no framework for understanding the ache in my chest.
The pull in my stomach.
The way my skin tingled where he touched.
The way I wanted him to touch more.
The way my hand moved lower this morning without my brain's permission.
Something was wrong with me.
Physically wrong.
Medically wrong.
I needed help.
Needed a doctor.
Needed someone to explain why I felt this way.
Why I wanted things I didn't understand.
Why my body betrayed me every time he was near.
---
I went to find him.
Walked through the enormous house.
Past rooms I still didn't know.
Past guards who nodded respectfully.
Past windows showing a world I had forgotten existed.
His bedroom door was open.
I knocked anyway.
No answer.
I stepped inside.
The room was empty.
Bed unmade from this morning.
Covers tangled where we lay.
I blushed at the memory.
Then heard it.
Water running.
Bathroom.
He was in the bathroom.
I should leave.
Should wait.
Should not repeat what happened last time.
But my feet wouldn't move.
And then I heard something else.
---
A sound.
Low.
Deep.
Strained.
Coming through the door.
Not pain.
Something else.
Something I didn't recognize.
I moved closer.
Against my will.
Against my better judgment.
The bathroom door was slightly open.
Just a crack.
Just enough.
I looked through.
And froze.
---
He was in the shower.
Glass walls.
Water streaming down his body.
The same view as before.
But different.
His hand was not washing.
His hand was wrapped around himself.
The part of him I had seen.
The part my hand had been reaching for this morning.
He was touching it.
Moving his hand along it.
Rhythmically.
Desperately.
His head was thrown back.
Water running over his throat.
His chest heaving.
His mouth open.
And he was speaking.
Chanting.
Praying.
---
"Meera."
My name.
From his lips.
Broken.
Reverent.
"Meera."
Again.
And again.
Like a mantra.
Like a prayer.
Like I was sacred and sinful all at once.
"Little star."
His voice cracked on the words.
"My little star."
His hand moved faster.
His body tensed.
And then I saw it.
White.
Splashing against the glass door.
Running down with the water.
He was—
I didn't know the word.
Didn't have language for this.
But I understood.
Finally understood.
This was what my hand had been reaching for.
This was what the biology chapter didn't explain.
This was what happened between people.
What led to sperm meeting egg.
What led to babies.
What led to everything.
---
He opened his eyes.
Looked up.
Saw the glass door.
Saw the evidence of what he just did.
And then he saw me.
Through the glass.
Through the water.
Through the white still running down.
Watching him.
Watching all of it.
His eyes went wide.
Blank.
Shocked.
Mine stayed wide too.
Blank.
Shocked.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us breathed.
The water continued falling.
The steam continued rising.
The white continued sliding down the glass.
And we just stared at each other.
Through the barrier.
Through the revelation.
Through the moment everything changed.
---
I didn't know what to feel.
Didn't know what to think.
Didn't know what to do.
He had been saying my name.
Chanting it.
Like I was something holy.
While doing that.
While touching himself.
While releasing that.
Onto the glass.
Where I could see.
Where I could understand.
He wanted me.
Not just my company.
Not just my attention.
Not just my trust.
He wanted me like that.
In that way.
The way I didn't understand but was beginning to.
The way my body craved even though my mind didn't know it.
---
He moved first.
Grabbed a towel.
Wrapped it around himself.
Turned off the water.
Stepped out of the shower.
His eyes never left mine.
Through the glass.
Through the door.
Through the crack I was still peering through.
He walked to the door.
Pulled it open.
Stood there.
Towel low on his hips.
Chest still wet.
Hair dripping.
Eyes burning.
"Meera."
I couldn't speak.
Couldn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
"How long were you watching?"
I shook my head.
Didn't know.
Didn't care.
Didn't matter.
---
He stepped closer.
I stepped back.
He stopped.
"I'm sorry."
The words were quiet.
Rough.
Genuine.
"I didn't know you were there. I would never—not without your permission—I'm sorry."
I shook my head again.
Still couldn't speak.
"You shouldn't have seen that. Not yet. Not like this."
"Why?"
The word escaped.
Small.
Confused.
"Why what?"
"Why was you saying my name?"
His eyes darkened.
Deepened.
Burned.
"Because I was thinking of you."
"Why?"
"Because I always think of you."
"But that—what you were doing—"
"Yes."
"That's—"
"Yes."
---
I didn't understand.
Couldn't understand.
But something was happening in my body.
Heat.
Pressure.
Aching.
The same feelings from this morning.
The same pull.
The same need.
"Is this what I wanted? This morning? When my hand—"
"Yes."
"Is this what—" I stopped. Swallowed. "Is this what people do? Together?"
His breath caught.
"Yes."
"And you were doing it alone. Thinking of me."
"Yes."
I looked at him.
At the man who killed and tortured and loved me.
At the man who just spilled himself on glass while saying my name.
At the man who made me feel things I couldn't name.
"I don't understand any of this."
"I know."
"I don't know what's happening to me."
"I know."
"I thought something was wrong. Medically wrong. I was going to ask you to take me to a doctor."
Pain flickered across his face.
"There's nothing wrong with you."
"Then what is it?"
He stepped closer again.
Slow.
Careful.
Giving me time to retreat.
I didn't.
---
"It's called desire."
"Desire."
"Lust. Want. Need. The thing that happens between two people who—" He stopped. Chose words carefully. "Who feel something for each other."
"Like love?"
"Like love. But different. Physical."
"You feel this? For me?"
"Every moment of every day."
"And this morning. When I touched you. You felt—"
"Everything. I felt everything."
I stared at him.
At the want in his eyes.
The restraint in his body.
The way he held himself back even now.
Even after I saw everything.
Even after I knew.
"I don't know what I feel."
"I know."
"I don't know what I want."
"I know."
"But I want something. I feel something. And I don't know what it is."
He smiled.
Soft.
Sad.
Beautiful.
"That's okay. You'll learn. We'll learn together. When you're ready."
"And if I'm never ready?"
"Then I'll wait anyway."
---
I should have left.
Should have run.
Should have protected myself from this man and all he made me feel.
But I stayed.
Because for the first time.
I understood.
The ache in my chest.
The pull in my stomach.
The need I couldn't name.
It had a name now.
Desire.
And it was for him.
Only him.
Always him.
"Ethan."
"Yes."
"I don't know what comes next."
"Neither do I."
"But I'm not running."
"I know."
"I don't know why."
He stepped closer.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to feel his warmth.
Close enough to see the drops of water still on his skin.
"Because you're brave. Because you're curious. Because you feel it too."
"Feel what?"
"This."
He reached out.
Slow.
Giving me time.
His hand cupped my cheek.
Gentle.
Warm.
Reverent.
Everything I felt this morning when I touched him.
But different.
Because it was him touching me.
And it was everything.
---
I closed my eyes.
Leaned into his hand.
Felt the calluses on his palm.
The strength in his fingers.
The tenderness in his touch.
This was desire.
This was want.
This was what the biology chapter never taught.
And it was terrifying.
And beautiful.
And I wanted more.
"Ethan."
"Yes."
"I think—I think I want—"
I didn't know how to finish.
Didn't have words.
But he understood.
"Not yet. Soon. But not yet."
I opened my eyes.
Looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because when it happens, I want you to know exactly what you're choosing. I want you to understand everything. I want you to come to me with eyes open and heart ready. Not confused. Not scared. Not uncertain."
"And if I'm always uncertain?"
"Then I'll wait forever."
I believed him.
Completely.
Terrifyingly.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. I'll wait. Until I understand. Until I'm sure."
He smiled.
The real smile.
The one that reached his eyes.
The one that made him look like the boy from class.
The one that made my heart stutter.
"Thank you, little star."
"For what?"
"For staying. For trying. For wanting to understand."
I didn't answer.
Just stood there.
His hand on my cheek.
My heart in my throat.
The ghost of what I saw still burning in my memory.
He said my name.
Chanted it.
Spilled himself to it.
I was in his blood.
In his bones.
In his very existence.
And somewhere in the confusion.
The fear.
The uncertainty.
I realized.
He was in mine too.