Chapter 47

Content warning: This chapter includes themes of self-harm and sexual assault.

***

The porch creaks as I shift, the wooden slats pressing against my spine like a punishment for sitting too long. My body aches in that way exhaustion seeps into bones-not just tired, but worn down, like something rusting from the inside.

The sun is setting now, bleeding over the rooftops in that deep, burnt orange that makes everything look softer than it really is.

I push myself up. My legs feel heavy, my joints stiff.

When I look toward the street, I see him.

Dad.

Standing by the fence gate, hands shoved in his pockets. His face is unreadable at first, just shadows cast in the fading light.

But then I see it—the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flick over me like he’s searching for something, anything, to say. Like he’s been standing there longer than he should have.

I exhale slowly, steadying myself.

As I step closer, he shifts, like he’s bracing himself.

Like he’s going to ask something. Maybe about where I’ve been. Maybe about why I’m here. Maybe about what’s eating me alive.

“Not now, Dad.” My voice is quiet, but firm.

His lips part, hesitation flickering across his face, but he doesn’t push.

I walk past him, stepping onto the street. The weight in my chest doesn’t lift, but I keep moving, heading home, leaving behind the ghost of a conversation that never happened.

***

The door shuts behind me, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve left anything outside. Everything is still here, in my ribs, in my throat, pressing down on my skull.

The house is quiet except for my mom’s voice drifting from the living room. I barely register the words-some casual conversation, something that belongs to a world I am not part of right now. But then she stops. I feel it before I see it. The way her breath catches, the slight shift of her stance.

She sees me.

I don’t slow down. Don’t give her a glance. Don’t acknowledge the way she hesitates, maybe about to say my name. Maybe about to ask something.

I don’t have an answer.

I take the stairs two at a time, push my door open, and shut it behind me. Harder than necessary.

The silence is worse in here.

I pull my shirt off, I yanked it over my head like I’m trying to rip off my own skin.

My body aches-too much sitting, too much thinking, too much of everything. I should shower. I should sleep.

I should—

I should not be thinking about Raj.

I should not be thinking about the way it felt when his lips were on mine, when my hands were in his hair, when I let myself drown in something I should never have wanted in the first place.

Amit.

Amit, who was mine.

Amit, who kissed me like he meant it, like I was something worth loving.

Amit, who looked at me like I mattered.

Amit, who was my boyfriend.

We were boyfriends.

It should have been enough.

Then why wasn’t it?

I yank my belt loose, shove my jeans down, breathing too fast, too sharp. My thoughts won’t shut up.

Why did I kiss Raj?

Why did I want to?

Why did it feel like something inside me was breaking when he said he’d given up?

I shouldn’t care. I should hate him. I should feel sick.

But I don’t.

And that makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.

I glance up.

The mirror.

My reflection stares back-flushed, disheveled, lost.

I hate it.

I hate me.

My hands shake. My chest is tight. My whole body feels like it’s burning from the inside out.

I grab the nearest thing—a bottle of Irresistible Nights—and throw it.

Glass shatters.

A sharp, clean break.

I wish it felt that easy.

The shards of glass glinted like teeth on the floor. My knuckles burned, stung, but I barely felt it.

My own damn reflection-split, fractured, unrecognizable.

I don’t move. I don’t breathe properly. I just stand there, bare-chested, the skin under my collarbones burning like a brand.

Because the truth is—

I can’t stop thinking about that day.

The day everything split open.

The day I ruined Amit.

People always talk about first love like it’s this soft, gentle thing. A slow unfolding. Something that changes you in pastel colors.

Mine came in heat and teeth and blood.

How can I forget the fair?

How can I forget the way he smiled at me after I tied that bracelet on his wrist? The way his voice dipped quiet when he said “Are you serious?” like he didn’t believe it was real—

And I was.

For the first time in my life, I meant something.

He kissed me like I was allowed to want.

Like I was someone who could be loved.

And it should’ve ended there.

That should’ve been the story.

But I had to ruin it.

How can I forget—

I left to use the bathroom. That’s it. Something so normal. So stupid.

Amit stayed behind, smiling, sitting under that tree, still touching the bracelet like it meant something.

And then—

Vikram.

And his friends.

The same ones Amit was meant to play wingman for.

But Vikram saw me kiss Amit.

I had just gone to splash cold water on my face, still breathless, still smiling like an idiot. I didn’t even hear the door open behind me.

Didn’t have time to react before Vikram’s hand slammed me into the sink.

“Thought you were into me, freak,” he spat.

I tried to speak, explain, anything but then one of his friends kicked the door shut and turned the lock.

Four of them. Football team. Strong. Loud. Grinning like this was just another scrimmage.

I didn’t even know all their names.

The next thing I knew, my back hit the tiled floor. Someone yanked my bag off. Another pulled at my hoodie.

“Lying little faggot,” one of them muttered.

Vikram laughed. “You wanted it, right? Isn’t that how your kind works?”

I struggled. Kicked. I think I got one in the shin.

Then a fist to my stomach knocked the air out of me.

Hands everywhere-grabbing, pushing, tearing. My shirt was ripped. My belt half-removed.

And then—

They grabbed me, shoved me back into the corner, laughter ringing in my ears.

“Look at him. Little faggot thinks he can play both sides.”

“Thought he could suck up to Amit and get some too?”

“Smile for the camera, Sharma.”

The flash from the phone.

The hand on my jaw.

The pressure against my throat.

The fingers in my hair.

One of them held me down while Vikram kissed me.

But not because he wanted to.

Because he wanted to humiliate me.

Because he wanted to make a video.

Just my face.

Because I was the one who had betrayed him.

My shirt was torn. My jeans unzipped. They left me like that-on the bathroom floor, gasping, crying, begging them to stop, and still hearing them laugh as they walked out.

I don’t remember how I got outside.

I just remember Amit’s face when he saw me.

He was leaning against the fence, arms crossed, face serious in that way he got when he was about to say something real. Like maybe he was waiting for me.

Like maybe he had something to tell me-something important.

But when he saw me, he froze.

Horror.

Panic.

Guilt.

Rage.

And I remember thinking-this is my fault.

Because if I hadn’t asked him to come to the fair, if I hadn’t gotten greedy, if I hadn’t kissed him back in the open, if I hadn’t wanted it so badly—

This wouldn’t have happened.

Not to me.

Not to him.

His eyes were locked onto mine, then dropped to the torn fabric, the bruises already blooming on my neck, the dirt smudging my arms.

“Dev?” His voice cracked on my name.

I shook my head. Tried to say I was fine.

Tried to lie like I always did.

But I couldn’t.

The sob tore out of me like it had claws. I choked on it, curling in on myself, and all I could say was one word.

“Vikram.”

That was all it took.

Amit didn’t speak. He didn’t ask. He didn’t blink. He just turned.

And then he was gone—

The next time I saw him, he was on top of Vikram, fists flying, screaming something I couldn’t hear over the panic and the teachers yelling and the sound of blood hitting pavement.

They had to pull him off.

Vikram didn’t get up.

He was admitted to the hospital. His jaw fractured. Three ribs broken.

And Amit—

Amit got called into the principal office. He was expelled. Just like that.

One moment. One night.

And everything we had shattered.

I was taken home by a teacher. My mom cried. My dad didn’t speak. No one asked what happened to me. Not really. The attention was on Amit. On the fight. On how far it had gone.

And later at night, when the house had gone quiet and the walls felt too tight around me, I slipped out.

The street was empty.

Except for the truck.

He left because of me.

Because I led Vikram on.

Because I wanted to make Amit jealous.

Because I asked Amit to love me.

Because I kissed him where people could see.

If I had just stayed quiet—

If I hadn’t made it all so messy-

He’d still be here.

He’d still be walking through the school gates like he owned the world, annoying me with his terrible jokes, dragging me into fights I didn’t want but secretly loved.

He’d still have his life. His friends. His home.

But I ruined it. I ruined him.

And I never even got to say I was sorry.

I can’t do this again.

I can’t-

Not with Raj.

Not when I already ruined the one person who loved me without making me bleed for it.

Not when Amit got burnt just for knowing me.

I dig my nails into my palms until it hurts. It’s not enough. Nothing is enough. My heart is thudding too loud, my breath shallow and broken like it’s trying to escape my own chest.

Raj kissed me. I kissed him. I wanted to.

I let it happen.

I let myself want something again.

How dare I.

How fucking dare I.

Amit was my boyfriend.

Amit was the first person who ever looked at me like I was something more than just a body to endure, more than just silence in a room full of noise.

He gave me everything.

And I destroyed him.

I got him expelled.

I got him hurt.

I got him gone.

And now I’m sitting here thinking about Raj?

What is wrong with me?

I drag myself to the mirror, but it’s already shattered-just like me. My reflection is broken into a hundred versions of the same boy.

Every one of them looks like a fraud.

I slap myself.

Hard.

Once.

How could you forget?

Again.

How could you even think about someone else?

Again.

How can you do that to him?

Again.

My palm stings. My face burns. But I don’t stop.

I deserve it.

I deserve every hit, every ounce of pain, because Amit was good. He was kind. He loved me.

And I repaid him with wreckage.

I can’t do this to Raj. I can’t even look at him without seeing the smoke trail of what I did to Amit.

If I let Raj in, I’ll destroy him too.

No, I can’t fall again.

I won’t.

Even if it kills me.