Chapter 1: The Third Visit

The third time I landed up at Kabir’s studio with my ear all red and throbbing, a barrage of comments seemed to flash in front of my eyes:

[Arey, yeh ladki! Infection le legi par apne dil ki baat nahi bolegi?]

[Second lead toh pura andhar se jal raha hai, par mooh pe kuch nahi dikhata. Typical brooding hero vibes, boss.]

Is… it really like this?

I stammered, "Um, actually, I…"

Kabir’s eyes, always a little too intense, flicked over to me.

"Hmm?"

I froze. "I want… a tongue piercing."

[Wah, ab toh full bold mode on!]

[Tongue piercing, kya baat hai!]

His Adam’s apple bobbed, voice low and just a bit rough: "Okay."

---

When I slipped into Kabir's studio again, he was busy giving a customer an eyebrow piercing. Outside, the distant honk of a BEST bus and the aroma of vada pav drifted in through the cracked window. The soft hum of the air conditioner barely managed to drown out the street vendors yelling downstairs. The air was a mix of antiseptic, coconut oil, and Mumbai’s unmissable humidity—his little Bandra studio had its own familiar scent.

From my spot, I could see his sharp side profile, his long, slightly wavy hair tied back in a small ponytail, a few strands falling onto his forehead.

He sensed someone enter and looked up. When he realised it was me, his brows knitted ever so slightly—almost too quick to catch. For a brief second, he pressed his lips together, like he was swallowing a sigh only I seemed to notice. Sometimes I wondered if he could hear my heart thumping from across the room.

"Sit down for a bit."

I nodded and found a seat at the side, waiting quietly. A faded poster of Lata Mangeshkar watched over the room, and a tiny Ganpati idol peeked from behind the cash counter.

I pulled out my phone, pretending to scroll, but really I was glancing at him now and then, letting the soft whir of the fan and faint beats of his Bluetooth speaker settle in the background.

Kabir lowered his head and continued working, and since he wasn’t watching, I took the chance to study him more boldly. Today he wore a loose sleeveless tank top, showing off arms that looked like they could lift a scooter—full of strength and easy confidence.

It took me right back to last time, when I got my cartilage pierced. I’d been so scared of the pain, I ended up grabbing his arm by accident.

The muscle under my palm had been tight and warm. My face went red to match.

I could almost feel my cheeks burning again, wishing I could hide behind my dupatta—if only I’d remembered to wear one today.

Back then, Kabir was holding the needle, aligning the spot for the piercing. Kabir glanced up, a strand of hair falling into his eyes, and for a second, I thought he might tease me. Instead, his voice was softer than I expected: "I'm finding the right angle. I'll tell you before I start, okay?"

"Mm."

But my mind had already wandered. My hand still rested on his bare arm, and the silence stretched between us, both of us pretending it was nothing.

Kabir didn’t say anything more. And I didn’t let go of his arm.

A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth, the kind that made my heart trip over itself.

"Okay, get ready."

"1, 2, 3, done."

That sudden sharp pain made me grip his arm even tighter. I left four little crescent marks on his skin.

Kabir smiled, started putting on the jewellery, and reminded me about aftercare. Gentle and patient.

His voice was low, almost soothing, as he listed out the do's and don'ts, like he was talking to a child but never making me feel small.

I never thought someone who looked so wild and mischievous, doing such a rebellious job, could be so gentle and careful.

Since then, I kept thinking about him—he’d just sneak into my head at the strangest times.

But I was scared of pain, so I never found another excuse to see him. Not until my ear piercing got inflamed after getting wet. Suddenly, I had a reason again.

This was the third time. I fiddled with my earring, Amma’s voice ringing in my head, and pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t blurt out the truth. The guilt made my ears burn even hotter.

"Don’t get more holes in your body, beta, God made you perfect," Amma’s warning echoed in my mind, making me feel even guiltier.