The two days passed in a fever dream. They skipped school completely, no calls answered, no messages checked.
Just the two of them locked away in her house, lost in each other. Mornings turned into lazy, slow lovemaking with sunlight spilling across the sheets.
Afternoons became desperate rounds on the living-room couch or against the kitchen counter.
Nights were long and intense, sweaty, breathless confessions mixed with moans. They barely ate, barely slept. It was like the world had stopped, and only they existed.
But today was supposed to be the day her parents came back from Pune.
They'd lost track of time. After another exhausting night, they were still tangled up naked under the thin sheet, her head on his chest, his arm around her waist, both of them dead asleep when the front door opened earlier than expected.
He half-heard voices, her mother calling softly, "Shaista? Baby, we're home… the car thing finished quicker than we thought." Then footsteps. A knock on the bedroom door. "Shaista? Are you okay in there?"
No answer. They were out cold.
A moment later, the door clicked, the spare key they always kept for emergencies. It swung open.
Then they saw everything: the two of them completely bare, sheets barely covering anything, the room heavy with the smell of sex and sleep. His arm still wrapped around her like he owned her. Her leg was thrown over his.
"Shaista!" her mother cried, hand clapped over her mouth.
Her father went rigid. His face turned dark red, then ashen. "What the hell is this?" His voice cracked, half rage, half heartbreak. "Arahan? You… both of you… like this?"
Shaista jolted awake, eyes wide with panic. She yanked the sheet up to cover them, face burning. "M-Mom? Dad? You're… you're back early…"
Her father's voice shook with fury, but beneath the anger was humiliation. Not because Arahan had taken his daughter's innocence, but because the rumors had already been swirling through the school corridors for weeks.
He opened his mouth again, but her mother stepped forward quickly, placing a gentle but firm hand on his arm.
"Don't," she said quietly. "They're young. You can't stop them now. Just… let them be."
Her father's jaw clenched. He looked between the two of them, Shaista flushed and trembling under the sheet, Arahan holding her protectively, and let out a bitter, frustrated sound.
"If I leave them like this in the bedroom," he muttered, voice low and strained, "even in a week she'll make me a grandfather."
Her mother's eyes softened. A small, almost wistful smile touched her lips.
"So it would be good news, then," she said gently. "After all, we need a child in this house too. I'd be happy to become a grandmother."
Her father grunted, half reluctant, half resigned, and finally nodded once, sharply. He turned and walked out without another word.
Her mother lingered a second longer. She looked at Shaista with quiet understanding, then at Arahan with a measuring gaze that held no real anger.
"I already told you to get married before anything like this happened," she said softly to Shaista. "But you said, 'We'll handle it.'"
She paused, eyes flicking to Arahan again.
"I also told you that you would definitely like him after marriage. But you said, 'No, I want to test him first. I'm sure I won't like him.'"
Her smile widened just a fraction, teasing, resigned, and oddly warm.
"But now look at yourself… lying in his arms like this."
Shaista's face burned crimson. She buried it against Arahan's chest, mortified, unable to meet her mother's eyes. The embarrassment was overwhelming, her nakedness under the sheet, the smell of sex still heavy in the room, her parents standing there witnessing the undeniable aftermath of her choices.
Her mother gave one last soft look, then turned and closed the door gently behind her.
Shaista stayed curled against Arahan, cheeks flaming, heart pounding with a chaotic mix of shame, relief, and lingering desire.
He stroked her hair gently, voice low.
"They didn't disown us," he murmured. "That's something."
She gave a shaky laugh against his skin.
"Barely."
They lay there in silence for a long time, the weight of what had just happened settling over them both.
---
After Arahan and Shaista came out of the room, both hastily dressed, faces flushed and eyes still glassy from sleep and shame, her father was waiting in the main room. He had stopped pacing and now stood with arms crossed, jaw tight, the earlier rage cooled into something colder and more resolute.
He looked at Shaista first.
"First thing tomorrow," he said, voice flat and final, "you're withdrawing from that school. No more teaching. No more excuses. You took that job only to stay near him. It ends now."
Shaista didn't argue. She didn't even flinch.
She simply nodded, eyes downcast, a small, almost relieved breath escaping her lips.
"Okay, Papa. I'll stop. I never really liked it anyway… it was just… temporary."
Her father gave a single, sharp nod, relief flickering briefly in his tired eyes. He sat heavily on the wooden chair across from them. Then he turned his gaze to Arahan.
His voice stayed low, controlled, but carried the weight of a man who had just seen his daughter's life change irreversibly.
"We're going back to Calcutta next week. The house is almost ready. You have two choices, boy."
He held up one finger.
"First: come with us. I'll get you into a good school there, and finish twelfth properly. And the wedding… we can do it soon."
He raised a second finger.
"Or second: stay here. Wait till you graduate. Prove you're man enough for her."
Shaista's hand tightened around Arahan's. She looked at him expectantly, almost pleading.
Her eyes said: Choose Calcutta. Choose me. Choose now.
But Arahan looked straight at her father.
"I'll finish graduation here first," he said quietly but firmly. "Then I'll come for her. Properly."
Shaista's face changed instantly. She stared at him like a wife who had just been betrayed in front of witnesses.
"What?" she snapped, voice rising in disbelief. "Graduation? You're choosing school over me?"
She yanked her hand free and stepped in front of him, facing her own parents as if they weren't even there.
"You heard him, Papa? He wants to stay here! He wants to waste time while I go to Calcutta alone!"
Her voice cracked with anger now, real, burning anger.
She grabbed Arahan's wrist in a vice grip and pulled him forward, forcing him to face her parents.
"Tell them!" she hissed, eyes blazing. "Tell them you're coming to Calcutta. Tell them right now!"
For the first time, Arahan truly felt her strength.
Not the soft, yielding girl who had melted under his hands. This was different. This was the Shaista the school boys feared.
He finally understood why.
She had let him do everything, every touch, every claim, every public declaration of ownership, because she loved him. Because she didn't mind. Because she had chosen to submit, not because she was weak, but because she trusted him.
But the truth is she is never an obedient girl, she is yandere. In a few heartbeats, the illusion shattered.
He wasn't dominating her. She was the one who had been allowing it. And now she wasn't allowing anymore.
Tears welled in Arahan's eyes, not from pain, but from a familiar instinct. He knew exactly how to handle girls who liked to dominate. It was one of his oldest tricks, the same one he had used with Neha and Payal when they tried to bully him, and it always worked.
The same one he had pulled on Sahil's sisters whenever he wanted something badly: a single drop of tear, a little tremble in the voice, and they melted every time.
And now, he was going to apply the same thing with Shaista.
"Shaista…" he whispered, voice cracking deliberately. "I'm feeling so much pain… please leave my hand… it's hurting so much."
She didn't loosen her grip, instead it tightened.
"Now you feel hurting?" she said, voice low and dangerous. "When you said in front of the whole school, 'If I say sit, you sit', that time it wasn't hurting? When you said 'She is my property' in front of everyone, that time it wasn't hurting?"
Arahan's tears fell freely now, sliding down his cheeks in slow, deliberate tracks.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, voice small and broken. "I'm sorry… please forgive me."
In his mind, he remembered the famous love guru's quote he had once read and laughed at:
"Never bow down to your girlfriend before she becomes your wife. Never show your backbone. Or else you will get dominated your whole life."
He had always believed it was nonsense. He had thought he could bully Shaista, dominate her, and own her. But in an instant, everything flipped.
He thought bitterly to himself: Love guru, what the fuck. No one can win against their wife using backbone? They can only win with tears.
Shaista stared at him for a long moment, fury, love all warring in her eyes. Even she didn't believe he would turn 360 degrees so instantly.
The confident boy who looked like he owned the whole world had, in seconds, become a crybaby.
She even started cursing herself inwardly: Why didn't I apply this from the beginning? Dominating Arahan a little was good…
But seeing the tears in his eyes, she melted. Her grip loosened. Her anger softened. She let go completely.
And just then, they heard a deliberate cough from the doorway.
Her parents were still standing there.
Shaista blushed furiously, cheeks flaming red. She had forgotten they were watching the entire exchange.
"Oh Mom…" she stammered, voice suddenly small. "I… I just got a little angry."
To hide her embarrassment, she quickly grabbed Arahan's wrist again, and dragged him back toward the bedroom, shutting the door behind them with a soft click.