Sonam capped her bottle.
“That’s the truth. Now you know the start and the stop. What you do with it is the part we called you here to see.”
Akriti looked at Vivek.
“Bhaiya. Say something that is not sorry.”
Vivek nodded once.
“We’ll book the trains. We’ll handle this month. You study. You don’t pick up a booking number. If the number rings, you give it to me and I kill it.”
Sanjay added, quieter,
“And we don’t tell a third soul. Forgive what we can. Forget what we can. The rest we live with without making you pay extra.”
Puja glanced at the door, then at the three of them on her bed, then at the two girls who had not run.
“Good,” she said. “Then tonight is talk. Tomorrow is tickets and fees and whatever dignity we have left. Nobody proves anything on this mattress.”
The fan moved the heat around.
Outside, the lane made lane sounds.
Inside, the food bags were empty, the basket was hidden badly, and the evening had finally become what she had promised on the field: not a court, not a sequel. A room where the story was told, and the word Bhaiya was being tested to see if it could still hold.
The fan kept moving the heat.
Nobody spoke long enough that the ice in the bucket became the loudest thing in the room.
Sonam set her bottle down with a click.
“Okay. Enough funeral.”
Akriti let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“If I sit like this one more minute I will start crying at a cracked mug. I refuse.”
Sonam looked at Raja, then at Vivek, then at Sanjay, eyes still red, mouth already turning cruel in the old sister way.
“You three look handsome and unemployed of girlfriends. How is that possible. Job, salary, jawline, and still no one is claiming you in a status.”
Raja blinked.
“That’s what you’re going with.”
“Yes, Bhaiya. I’m going with it. You stood outside my tuition for two years and you couldn’t find one woman who wasn’t scared of your jokes.”
Akriti pointed her bottle at Vivek.
“And you. Face like a good boy. Hugs like a cupboard. Still single. What do you do with the salary. Mutual funds and loneliness?”
Vivek’s ears went hot.
“Akriti.”
“What. We told you the ugly story. You don’t get to sit like saints. You look fine. You looked fine at lunch. You looked fine on the stairs. It’s offensive.”
Puja snorted into her knee, tired and grateful.
Sonam’s gaze slid to Sanjay.
“And you. Quiet Bhaiya. Women like quiet until they find out quiet is just overthinking. Still no girlfriend. Should we put up a notice at Gandhi Maidan.”
Sanjay rubbed his thumb along the bottle cap.
“Not tonight.”
Akriti leaned back on her palms.
“We saw the images. We saw the clip.”
The room changed temperature.
Raja’s head came up.
Vivek went still.
Sanjay looked at Puja. Puja did not deny it.
Sonam’s voice was lighter than the words.
“You made her tired. Proper tired. Bags under her eyes, walk like her bones filed a complaint. Proud of you, honestly. For virgins you didn’t look like a group project that failed.”
Akriti added, shameless now that the bomb was already on the floor,
“Size bhi… thik tha. Don’t get shy. Phone doesn’t lie. Puja look exhausted like she taught a whole syllabus in one night.”
