Chapter 1: The Anniversary Surprise

When I was getting intimate with my boyfriend, his reaction was very strange.

I’d spent all afternoon rehearsing what I’d say, palms sweating every time I imagined his smile. As I stood there in the maroon lace lingerie I’d bought after weeks of hinting, my heart raced with excitement and shyness. Arjun had been teasing me for ages—'Acha, when will you surprise me yaar?'—and today, finally, I’d gathered the courage. But the moment felt all wrong. He didn’t even touch me. Instead, the silence was so thick I could hear the ceiling fan creak and the faint shouts of children playing cricket in the lane outside. The cricket shouts outside felt far away, and the maroon lace suddenly scratched against my skin, making me want to disappear.

The room was dark. I leaned close to his ear and gently blew, whispering, “I have a surprise for you. Do you like it?”

His breathing became ragged.

I was thrilled, thinking my plan was working. His body was warm, and I could feel the faint hint of aftershave mixed with the scent of fresh laundry powder—very Arjun, or so I thought.

So I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him even more passionately.

But just then, my boyfriend’s voice suddenly came from outside the door.

“The lights are all on—why isn’t anyone here?”

My knees nearly buckled, and for a second, I wished Amma’s scolding would come crashing through the ceiling to rescue me. My hands trembled as I realized something was terribly off. A slow chill ran down my spine.

If Arjun was outside… then who was I holding right now?

In the darkness, I scrambled away from the person beside me, nearly tripping over the rug that Arjun’s mother had gifted him. The room seemed even smaller and more suffocating in that moment.

Clutching my chest, I demanded in a low, panicked voice, “Who are you?” My heart was pounding so loudly, I was sure the stranger could hear it.

I stared nervously at the shadowy figure in front of me, trying to make sense of the silhouette. The window’s curtain fluttered in the evening breeze, streetlights throwing odd patterns on the wall.

Soon, a deep and clear voice replied, “Kabir.”

I was stunned. Kabir—Arjun’s roommate.

I’d seen him a few times when I came to visit Arjun. He always moved around quietly, never making a fuss. He had this habit of slipping into his room with just a slight nod, sometimes with headphones plugged in, lost in his own world.

My impression of him was that he was aloof, quiet, and hard to approach. Every time we met, we’d just nod—never even exchanged a word. It always felt like he was in a different world, his own little bubble.

Thinking about what had just happened, my face burned with embarrassment. I stammered, “Why did you come to Arjun’s room?” My voice was almost a whisper, afraid someone would overhear, my cheeks burning like I’d eaten too much mirchi.

“To borrow a charger.”

His answer was simple and direct, typical Kabir style—straightforward, no fuss.

But I was flustered. At that moment, I was wearing almost nothing. My mind raced with a million thoughts. Log kya kahenge if anyone saw us?

A man and a woman alone in a dark room…

If Arjun walked in and saw this, even if I jumped into the Ganga, I couldn’t clear my name. The thought of neighbourhood aunties gossiping made me shudder. My Amma’s face flashed in my mind, and I could already hear her scolding, 'Neha, kya kar rahi ho? Have you lost your mind?'

Panicking, I grabbed my clothes and phone and ducked into the wardrobe. The old wooden wardrobe creaked as I squeezed in, trying not to make any noise. The mothball smell stung my nose, mixing with the faint whiff of Arjun’s aftershave on the shirts brushing my face. My heart hammered in my chest.

“Don’t let Arjun find me. Please,” I pleaded softly with Kabir, voice barely audible over the rickety ceiling fan.

Kabir was silent for a couple of seconds, then came over and quietly closed the wardrobe door for me. The scent of mothballs and sandalwood filled the cramped space, mixing oddly with my own perfume.

Just then, the door swung open.

Arjun walked in.

He switched on the lights, flooding the room with brightness. For a second, I could see the sliver of light through the wardrobe crack.

“Huh? Kabir, what are you doing in my room?”

Kabir picked up the charger from the table. “Just borrowing a charger.”

“Oh.”

Arjun responded casually, his tone normal. I could hear the sound of his shoes scraping against the marble floor.

“By the way, have you seen Neha? She told me she was coming over.”

“Haven’t seen her.”

My back was slick with nervous sweat. My whole body felt sticky, the way it gets in Mumbai humidity, and the wardrobe was stifling.

Today was our one-year anniversary.

Before leaving work, I’d messaged Arjun, saying I had a surprise for him tonight.

He was working overtime and would be home late, which gave me plenty of time to prepare. I’d even brought a small cake from Monginis, hoping we could celebrate quietly together.

My plan was to present myself as a gift the moment he got home.

I never imagined things would turn into such a mess. For a second, I wondered if I should just disappear, like in those old Bollywood movies.

“There’s something wrong with my laptop. Can you come take a look?”

“Sure.”

After Kabir followed Arjun out, I hurriedly slipped out of the wardrobe, changed clothes, and quietly left with my things. I tiptoed out, making sure not to leave any evidence behind. My heart was still thudding like a tabla in my chest.