Chapter 1: The Empathy Curse

The first time I snuck under the covers with Rohan, my childhood friend, I thought the only thing I’d have to worry about was Amma catching us—not him clutching his stomach and falling off the bed.

For a split second, everything froze. The ceiling fan above us groaned, stirring the sticky Pune afternoon air, while the neighbor’s pressure cooker shrieked and an auto honked somewhere outside. I stared at Rohan sprawled on the floor, torn between bursting into laughter and full-blown panic.

I blinked hard, and suddenly a barrage of comments flashed through my mind:

[Arre yaar, the male lead finally gets to experience period pain himself!]

[Serves him right—who asked the hero to fool around with his childhood friend? The moment hormones entered, he triggered the heroine’s period!]

[This empathy setting is hilarious. Can’t wait for double out-of-focus eyes, I’m dead!]

The thoughts zipped past my mind’s eye, as if every nosy aunty in the building had formed a WhatsApp group just to gossip about us. I rubbed my temple, the sound of the real room fading as the barrage took over.

This wasn’t my first time seeing these comments.

I am the childhood friend. The female lead is that transfer student.

Even as I tried to process the absurdity, the weight of those invisible eyes pressed on me. The world—real or not—had already decided our roles in this drama.

Looking at my childhood friend, now pale and doubled over in pain before me, I said softly, “Let’s just forget about us.”

My voice barely rose above a whisper, but the words tasted bitter, like the last sip of over-brewed chai left in the cup.