I am Ishrat.
We both passed Class 12 with good marks once again — I scored 91% and Sadab managed 87%. Our parents were extremely happy and proud. After all the hard work and pressure of boards, they finally agreed to let us celebrate properly. This time, we planned a much longer trip: a whole month in Mumbai.
The moment we reached Mumbai, the "same story" began all over again.
The city was loud, fast, and full of energy, but our days quickly fell into a familiar pattern. We had booked a small serviced apartment in Andheri through a family contact. It had one bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and enough privacy that no one bothered us.
From the very first night, Sadab could not hold back. Almost every day, except when we went out to explore the city, he would fuck me whenever he wanted. In the morning, as soon as we woke up, he would pull me close under the sheets and take me without a condom. In the afternoon, after coming back from Marine Drive or Juhu Beach, he would lock the door, push me onto the bed, and fuck me again — sometimes for a long time, sometimes quick and rough. Evenings were the same. Late nights too.
He rarely used protection, no matter how many times I reminded him. I would say, "Sadu, please… use a condom this time," but he would just kiss my neck and whisper, "It feels so much better without, Ish. Don't worry, I'll be careful." Most of the time he wasn't. He came inside me almost every single time — sometimes once, sometimes twice or even three times in a day. I lost count after the first week.
We did see some places — Gateway of India, Colaba, Bandra-Worli Sea Link, and a few malls — but even during those outings, his mind was rarely on the scenery. He would find quiet corners, dark cinema halls, or the back seat of cabs to touch me, kiss me, or whisper how badly he wanted to get back to the room and fuck me again.
The whole month in Mumbai became less about the city and more about how many times he could have my body. I was tired, often sore between my legs, and sometimes I felt used, but I never stopped him. A part of me still loved the attention, the way he looked at me like he couldn't get enough, the way he called me "Ish" breathlessly while moving inside me.
By the end of the month, I had started feeling scared again. My periods were late by almost ten days. Every morning I would check the calendar on my phone with a heavy heart. I didn't tell Sadab yet — I was too afraid to say it out loud.
As we packed our bags to return to Lucknow, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. He was smiling, satisfied, already planning how we would continue meeting after going back. I forced a smile back, but inside me, the old worry had grown into a deep, heavy fear.
Our long Mumbai trip had been exactly like Manali — beautiful city, reckless passion, and no protection. Only this time it had lasted an entire month.
I didn't know what waited for us back home, but I could feel that something was about to change.
For now, I remained quiet, resting my head on Sadab's shoulder as the train left Mumbai, wondering if our young love had finally crossed a line we could no longer ignore.