I'm not so sure..

(Ishan’s POV)

Walking the path I’ve taken for eighteen years,

it has never felt this uneasy.

Heavy. Uneasy. Confused.

Maybe because today, it didn’t begin at home.

It began somewhere else.

A strange room. A strange bed.

And… a strange embrace.

And that too ...of a man.

A man.

I never thought I’d wake up like this.

I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel about it.

I never had anything against it,

never questioned it either…

but I was certain it wasn’t me.

At least, I was...until last night.

It was a mistake.

It had to be.

I was drunk. He was drunk.

That’s all it was.

Right?

maybe...

But that doesn’t change anything.The night still lingers.In the warmth of his arms,

in the way my body hasn’t quite forgotten...

and in how my heart felt…

strangely

closer. safer. real.

than it ever should have.

Even now!Even this morning!

And that’s what unsettles me the most.

Maybe…

Maybe I’m not-

My phone starts ringing.

Sharp. Sudden. loud.

Too loud in the middle of everything.

I flinch, the thought slipping away before I can finish it.

The screen lights up in my hand.

I already know who it is.

Of course it’s her.

I let it ring

once. twice. thrice.

Then I pick it up with a quiet exhale.

“Where are you?I've been calling since last night, ishu!”

No hello. No pause.

I close my eyes for a second, pressing my fingers against my temple.

“I slept over at a friend’s place,” I say, the words coming out too easily.

Too practiced. Too quick.

A pause on the other end.

“Are you sure you don’t have a girlfriend, Ishu? Because if you do, your papa and I would be very happy to meet-”

“Please, not again, Ma,” I cut in quickly. “I’m already late for college. I’ll come home tonight. Bye.”

I don’t wait for her to finish.

I don’t give her the chance.

The call ends, and for a second, everything goes quiet again.

Too quiet.

I stare at the screen for a moment longer before lowering my hand.

A girlfriend.

The thought lingers, uncomfortable.

I've had girlfriends..

cute ones. hot ones. smart ones.

Some would say I had a type.

I’d say I had options.

And I’d agree, of course.

Why wouldn’t I?

Except,

None of them were really mine.

They were introductions.

Arrangements.

Carefully planned meetings set up by my father,

His friends’ daughters,

names I was supposed to remember,

smiles I was supposed to return.

Dates that felt more like obligations

than anything real.

What messes with my head the most is…

how last night..with him..

didn’t feel like anything I’ve known before.

Softer.

Warmer.

Real.

Nothing like those arranged smiles,

those conversations I had to sit through.

This wasn’t something I was told to be part of.

And maybe that’s what’s throwing me off-

because for once,

maybe..just maybe,

"I'm one of them" I muttered..

"one of who?"a voice interrupts

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