[Sunday | Parental Home – Afternoon]
The house smelled of incense and boiled rice. The priest was chanting something, but Ankit’s eyes kept drifting toward the kitchen.
She was in there.
He could feel her before he saw her.
Then she stepped out, holding a tray of sweets.
Hair wet. A small bindi on her forehead. The same sister he’d grown up protecting.
But all he could think of was the image of her — naked, soft, open — that she’d sent him without knowing.
She looked up.
Their eyes met.
Her lips parted slightly, just for a second, then she looked away.
Neither of them said a word.
[Later That Evening | Medha’s Room]
She sat cross-legged on her childhood bed. The same pink curtains. The same cork board with faded polaroids. The same stuffed toy Ankit had won for her at the fair.
A soft knock at her door.
Her heart stopped.
Medha:
“Come in…”
He entered, hesitantly. Like he was stepping into sacred ground.
Their eyes met again. No bindi this time. Just a girl, in a soft white T-shirt, without her armour.
Ankit:
“I just… wanted to say hi.”
Medha:
“Hi.” (smiles faintly)
“You avoided looking at me all day.”
Ankit: (sits on the edge of her bed, careful not to touch her)
“I was trying not to remember. But I remembered everything anyway.”
She looked down, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
Medha:
“Me too.”
Ankit:
“You looked… grown up today. But still like my little sister.”
Medha:
“But now you’ve seen me in ways a brother should never see.”
Ankit: (voice cracking slightly)
“You’re right. And I wish I could take it back.”
Medha: (whispers)
“I don’t.”
He turned toward her slowly, eyes searching.
Ankit:
“Medha…”
She looked up, her voice trembling.
Medha:
“That day… I sent you that picture because I trusted you. Because whoever you were… you made me feel like a woman. Not someone’s kid. Not someone’s responsibility.”
Ankit:
“And I failed you. As a brother. As a man.”
Medha:
“But you didn’t lie to me. You listened. You made me feel seen. And I can’t… forget that. Even if I try.”
A silence hung between them. A silence thick with everything unsaid.
Ankit:
“You called me ‘bhaiya’ in that chat.”
Medha: (nods slowly)
“I needed to remind myself. That no matter how I felt… that’s who you are.”
Ankit:
“Did it help?”
Medha:
“No. It made it worse.”
He closed his eyes. Leaned forward slightly.
Ankit:
“We can’t do this, Medha. We can’t become something else.”
Medha:
“Then what do we become? Two strangers wearing sibling masks?”
Ankit:
“No. But we can’t cross that line again.”
Medha: (softly)
“Even if we already did?”
Their eyes locked again. Not with lust — but with longing. Desperate confusion. A tether neither could cut.
She slowly stood up. Walked to the door. Closed it.
Medha:
“I won’t do anything. I just want to sit with you. Like before.”
Ankit:
“Before doesn’t exist anymore.”
Medha:
“Then let’s create an after. One that makes sense. Even if we don’t.”
She sat beside him on the bed. Close. Too close. Their arms barely brushing.
Neither of them moved away.
Undone – Part 14: A Line Between Us
[Evening | Medha’s Bedroom – Moments Before Ankit Leaves]