Ethan's POV
Lunch was simple.
Pasta.
Salad.
Wine for me.
Water for her.
We sat at the kitchen island.
Sunlight streaming through windows.
Normal.
Domestic.
Perfect.
She twirled pasta on her fork.
Chewed thoughtfully.
Watched me.
I knew that look.
Questions coming.
Dangerous questions.
"Ethan."
"Mm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
She put her fork down.
Leaned forward.
"Why did you come to class?"
I blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you knew everything. Better than the professors. Better than anyone. You could teach those classes. So why did you sit there every day pretending to need help?"
---
I considered lying.
Considered deflecting.
Considered avoiding.
But we were past that.
Past lies.
Past games.
Past hiding.
"Because it was the only way to be near you."
"I know that. But why classes? Why not just... talk to me? Why go through all that trouble?"
"Would you have talked to me? If I walked up and said I'm Ethan Moretti, I'm obsessed with you, let me sit beside you every day?"
She thought about it.
Smiled.
"No. I would have run."
"Exactly. So I became someone you wouldn't run from. A student. Someone who needed you. Someone harmless."
"Harmless." She laughed. "You're many things, Ethan. Harmless isn't one of them."
"No. But you didn't know that then."
---
She was quiet for a moment.
Processing.
Then.
"How did you know all that stuff? The algorithms. The formulas. The derivations. You explained them better than professors with decades of experience."
"I have degrees."
"How many?"
I hesitated.
"Six."
Her eyes went wide.
"Six? Six degrees?"
"Three doctorates. Three masters."
"In what?"
"Engineering. Mathematics. Physics. Computer science. Economics. Philosophy."
She stared at me.
Mouth open.
"That's insane."
"That's education."
"How old are you to have six degrees?"
Here it was.
The question I'd been dreading.
The one that would change how she saw me.
"Twenty-four."
---
Her face did something complicated.
Shock.
Confusion.
Amusement.
Then laughter.
Actual laughter.
"You're twenty-four?"
"Yes."
"That's—Ethan, that's so old!"
"It's not old."
"It is for college! You're twenty-four sitting in classes with eighteen-year-olds!"
"I was twenty-four sitting in classes with you. There's a difference."
She kept laughing.
Wiping her eyes.
Shaking her head.
"In India, if I met you on the street, I'd have to call you uncle."
"Uncle?"
"Uncle. For older men. Respect thing. You'd be Ethan Uncle."
I stared at her.
Uncle.
She wanted to call me uncle.
---
She was enjoying this too much.
Leaning forward.
Grinning.
"Ethan Uncle. Has a nice ring to it."
"It does not."
"Ethan Uncle, can you help me with my homework? Ethan Uncle, can you explain this formula? Ethan Uncle, why are you so old?"
"I'm not old."
"You're twenty-four. I'm nineteen. That's five years. In college years, that's ancient."
"You're enjoying this too much."
"Immensely."
---
She kept going through lunch.
Every few minutes.
Another jab.
Another tease.
Another uncle comment.
"Ethan Uncle, pass the salt."
"Ethan Uncle, your back must hurt from carrying all those degrees."
"Ethan Uncle, do you need a nap after lunch?"
I took it.
Let her have her fun.
Let her tease.
Let her laugh.
Because her laugh was everything.
Because watching her happy was worth any embarrassment.
But I was keeping count.
Seven times so far.
Seven uncle comments.
She would pay for this.
Later.
---
After lunch, we moved to the living room.
She curled on the couch.
I sat beside her.
She leaned against me.
Still grinning.
Still teasing.
"Ethan Uncle, what was college like in your day?"
"My day? It was five years ago."
"Ancient times. Did you have books? Or just scrolls?"
"Scrolls. We carved formulas into stone tablets."
She laughed.
That beautiful laugh.
"Ethan Uncle is funny too."
"That's eight."
"What?"
"Eight uncle comments. I'm counting."
Her eyes widened.
Mock fear.
"Oh no. Ethan Uncle is keeping count. What will he do? Send me to my room? Ground me?"
"Something like that."
---
She sat up.
Looked at me.
Challenging.
Bold.
"And what would Ethan Uncle do to punish me?"
I moved.
Fast.
Pulled her onto my lap.
Straddling me.
Face to face.
Heart to heart.
"You really want to know?"
Her breath caught.
But she didn't look away.
"Maybe."
"I could show you. But you might not be ready."
"I'm ready for anything."
"Are you? Ready for what uncle means in other contexts?"
She blinked.
Confused.
"What other contexts?"
---
I leaned closer.
Lips near her ear.
Voice low.
Dangerous.
"Some women don't call their men uncle. They call them something else. Something that has nothing to do with age and everything to do with... other things."
She pulled back.
Looked at me.
"What?"
"Daddy."
She stared.
Blank.
Then disgust.
"Eww! No! That's disgusting! Why would anyone call anyone that? That's weird! That's wrong! That's—"
"That's a thing. In certain contexts. Between consenting adults who enjoy certain dynamics."
"Dynamics? What dynamics?"
---
I sighed.
This was going to be a long conversation.
"In some relationships, couples use titles. Pet names. Things that add to the experience. Daddy is one of them. It's not about actual fatherhood. It's about dominance. Protection. Care. A dynamic where one person leads and the other follows."
She was listening now.
Curious despite herself.
"So when you said call you daddy tonight—"
"I was teasing. Because you kept calling me uncle. I wanted to see your reaction."
"It's still weird."
"It can be. If not done right. But with trust, with love, with understanding, it can be... intense. Beautiful even."
---
She thought about it.
Long.
Hard.
Then.
"Do you want me to call you that?"
"No."
"No?"
"No. I want you to call me Ethan. Or love. Or yours. Not uncle. Not daddy. Just Ethan. The man who loves you."
She relaxed.
Smiled.
"Good. Because I don't think I could say that with a straight face."
"Maybe someday. Maybe never. Doesn't matter."
"It doesn't?"
"No. What matters is us. What matters is how we feel. What matters is that you're here, in my arms, choosing me. Titles don't change that."
---
She curled against me.
Content.
Happy.
Then.
"Ethan."
"Mm?"
"I've been thinking."
"Dangerous."
"Shut up. I've been thinking about tonight."
My heart rate increased.
"What about it?"
"I want it to be special. I want to do everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything. All the things. The Kamasutra positions. All of them."
I choked.
Literally choked.
"The Kamasutra?"
"Yes. It's Indian. Our culture. We invented sexy positions. I want to try them all."
"Meera, the Kamasutra has like... hundreds of positions."
"Then we'll start with the good ones. The famous ones. The ones that—" She stopped. Blushed. "The ones that feel good."
---
I pulled her closer.
Kissed her forehead.
"Little star."
"Yes?"
"Tonight is your first time. Your actual first time. With anyone. Ever."
"I know."
"You won't be able to do hundreds of positions. You might not even be able to do one properly."
Her face fell.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, the first time can be intense. Overwhelming. Your body will need time to adjust. To learn. To understand what pleasure feels like with someone inside you."
"Oh."
"It's not disappointing. It's natural. It's how bodies work. We'll go slow. We'll do what feels good. We'll stop if it's too much. And over time, we'll explore. We'll try things. We'll learn each other."
---
She was quiet.
Processing.
Then.
"So I won't be able to do all the Kamasutra things tonight?"
"Probably not."
"Not even one fancy position?"
"Maybe one. If you're comfortable. If it feels right. But I'm not going to push you into anything. Tonight is about you. About your pleasure. About your comfort."
She looked at me.
Eyes soft.
Warm.
Loving.
"You're really good at this."
"At what?"
"At taking care of me. At making me feel safe. At wanting what's best for me instead of just what you want."
"You're the best thing in my life, Meera. Of course I want what's best for you."
---
She kissed me.
Soft.
Sweet.
Grateful.
Then she pulled back.
Grinning again.
"Ethan Uncle."
"That's nine."
"Ethan Uncle is so wise about sex."
"That's ten. You're in trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"The kind you'll find out about tonight."
She shivered.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
"Good trouble?"
"The best kind."
---
We stayed like that.
Talking.
Laughing.
Loving.
The sun moved across the sky.
Afternoon became evening.
Evening became dusk.
And soon.
Soon it would be night.
Soon she would be mine.
Completely.
Finally.
Forever.
I held her close.
Breathed her in.
Thanked whatever forces had brought her to me.
My little star.
My heart.
My home.
Tonight, everything would change.
And I would spend forever making sure it changed for the better.