Chapter 6: Claiming My Reward

I hooked my arm around his neck, rubbing the lips I’d coveted for so long.

“Kiss me.”

I knew Kabir didn’t like me, nor my touch. His shoulders stiffened for a second, but I pressed on, letting my fingers linger at the nape of his neck.

In the past, I hadn’t dared cross the line, afraid Kabir would rebel and call off the game at any time.

But now, if he wanted something from me, it was only fair to make an exchange, wasn’t it? That’s how things always worked in our world—give and take, no free lunches, as Ma liked to say.

When those soft, cool lips finally, hesitantly, pressed to mine, I once again deeply thanked the self who had studied hard for twelve years.

Meera, fate really hasn’t let you down. It might not be the movie ending, but it was mine, at least for now.

I began to stop reading, stop studying, and accompanied Kabir in wild abandon, unrestrained. We’d bunk classes, take long rides on his scooty, sometimes all the way to the river, and share cheap chaat while watching the sun go down. My books lay untouched on the table, the corners curling, as if sulking.

As a result, my ranking kept dropping, again and again.

The first time, of course, I let Ritika take first place.

When the teacher called her name after ‘first in the batch’ for the first time, Ritika was over the moon. She almost skipped across the classroom, her dupatta fluttering, a smile stretching across her face for the first time in ages.

She took the report card and looked at it over and over, finally burying her head in her arms and sobbing uncontrollably. I watched her, feeling an odd mixture of relief and loss. The whole class fell silent; even the strict English madam let her be.

Of course, I didn’t miss the look of smugness she shot at my report, pretending it was unintentional, but I acted as if I saw nothing.

I just quietly thought: it’s time to claim my reward.

Sure enough, that day Kabir was also very happy.

He ran to me from afar, his school uniform fluttering in the wind and sunlight. He looked like one of those heroes from the 90s, arms wide open, grinning ear to ear.

Maybe that’s why, when he hugged me, I still felt warmth. For a moment, I let myself believe the fairy tale.

I asked why he was so happy.

He smiled and said he’d won a beautiful basketball match today. As if the world was his for the taking.

I smiled too.

Pretending not to know that ‘beautiful basketball match’ never happened, I smiled and slipped a hotel room keycard into his palm.

“Today’s my eighteenth birthday.”

“Celebrate with me, okay?”

I fumbled with the keycard, hands sweating, hoping the receptionist wouldn’t look at us too long. The flutter in my stomach wouldn’t let me eat all day. I felt like every heroine I’d ever read about, poised at the edge of something new and dangerous.