Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
35: Eleven
Coming of Age Sex Story: 35: Eleven - Bharath always thought going to America would mean fast love, wild parties, and maybe a stewardess or two. What he got instead? A busted duffel bag, a crying baby on the plane, and dormmates he never thought could exist in real life. Thrown into the chaos of Georgia Tech’s freshman year, Bharath begins an unforgettable journey of awkward first crushes and culture shocks. A slow-burn, emotionally rich harem romance set in the nostalgic 90s—full of laughter, lust, and longing.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Consensual Fiction Humor School Sharing Group Sex Harem Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory White Female Hispanic Female Indian Female
Mia couldn’t stop smiling.
She didn’t even want to try.
Afternoon sunlight spilled in through Sarah’s big living room windows, golden and soft, bathing everything in a warmth that felt almost orchestrated - like even the sun was rooting for them. She lay curled sideways on the couch, her head resting on Marisol’s lap, legs stretched across Sarah’s thighs. All three girls were tangled like cats sunbathing on a windowsill, content and languid, touching without effort or hesitation.
Bharath had stepped out for a walk twenty minutes ago.
He’d kissed them all goodbye - forehead for Marisol, temple for Sarah, a soft peck on Mia’s cheek - and said he needed a little time to clear his head.
She didn’t blame him.
They’d upended everything in a single morning - their rhythms, their definitions, their boundaries. The look in his eyes before he left had said it all: He loved them. All of them. But love still needed a framework.
And honestly? She was glad he was thinking about it.
It meant he cared.
But Mia ... she wasn’t worried. Not anymore.
She ran her fingers idly along Marisol’s wrist, tracing her veins, then let her other hand drift down Sarah’s thigh until it rested just above the knee. Touch was so easy between them. It felt like they’d always been connected - like the electric kiss that morning had fused them in some secret way she hadn’t known was possible.
Her heart was full. No other word would do.
She had never been this happy. Not with friends. Not with guys. Not even in moments of solo victory. Not even - surprising herself as she thought about it - with her mom and Marisol from before.
This was belonging.
She glanced up at her sister, catching her eye. “You’re really okay with this?” she asked softly.
Marisol looked down, smiling warmly. “More than okay.”
Sarah chuckled. “Girl, we’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”
Mia laughed - not out of disbelief, but because the honesty in that sentence rang so true.
“I think I get it now,” she murmured. “Why this works. Why it’s not ... chaotic.”
“It’s not perfect,” Marisol said, gently brushing a hand through Mia’s hair. “But it is real. And that’s what makes it work.”
Mia looked over at Sarah. “Were you scared when you first joined them?”
Sarah tilted her head. “Terrified.”
“Of what?”
“Of ruining something beautiful,” she admitted. “Of being the third wheel. Of feeling like an extra when they already had this deep thing going.”
“And now?” Mia asked.
Sarah smiled. “Now I know that Bharath’s love multiplies. It doesn’t divide.”
That hit Mia right in the chest.
She let out a shaky breath. “That’s how I feel. Like ... I didn’t take something from you. I found something with you.”
Marisol squeezed her hand. “Exactly.”
They fell quiet for a moment, the weight of everything resting lightly on their limbs - warm, affectionate, but not without its edges.
“I want this to last,” Mia said quietly. “Forever.”
“It can,” Marisol said. “But only if we stay honest.”
Sarah nodded. “And stay clean.”
Mia blinked. “Clean?”
“Emotionally,” Sarah clarified. “No jealousy. No silent sulking. No ‘what ifs’ that turn into resentment.”
Marisol adjusted her posture and gently nudged Mia upright, motioning for her to sit properly now. “This is a family now. And families get poisoned when people hold back. Or compare. Or pretend things are fine when they’re not. We learned it the hard way a couple of times already.”
Mia nodded slowly. “You think I could ... mess that up?”
“I think anyone could,” Marisol said gently. “That’s why we talk. That’s why we will talk. Often.”
Sarah added, “You’re already ahead of where I was. You’re talking now.”
Mia swallowed. “I know I like attention. I’ve always liked being the center of things. And I love Bharath. But I also... love you two. I want this to be more than sex or teasing or even the emotional high I felt this morning. I want this to work.”
“That means boundaries,” Marisol said. “Especially now.”
Mia nodded. “School.”
“Yes,” Marisol said, firm now. “You’re finishing high school. No compromises.”
Sarah leaned forward. “You’re brilliant, Mia. And Bharath wants to teach you, not just flirt.”
Mia flushed. “I know. I’ll behave.”
“Behaving doesn’t mean being boring,” Marisol said with a smirk. “It just means ... prioritizing your future.”
Mia curled her knees up, suddenly more serious. “So ... what does that mean? Can I keep sleeping over?”
“Yes,” Marisol said. “But not too often. Mom already has one daughter practically living off campus. We push too hard, and she’ll start digging.”
“I’ll spend weekends at home,” Mia offered. “Make her feel seen. Help out around the house. Take her shopping.”
“Perfect,” Sarah said.
“And when Thanksgiving comes?” Mia asked, heart fluttering.
The girls exchanged a glance.
“We tell her about me,” Sarah said. “Not about you. Not yet.”
Mia looked down. “So for now...”
“You’re our secret,” Marisol said gently. “But not in a bad way. In a protected way.”
Mia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“That makes sense.”
They all leaned back again, the couch a soft cradle of their bond.
“I want us to have more talks like this,” Mia said. “Not just when there’s a crisis.”
“Agreed,” Sarah said.
Marisol smiled. “Maybe that’s our tradition.”
Mia laughed. “Serious family meetings. Always naked. Always cuddling Bharath.”
Sarah snorted. “Productivity goes up by at least 200% when his arms are full.”
“Or when he’s trying not to react to someone grinding on him in tiny thongs,” Mia added cheekily.
They all burst out laughing.
“Let’s do this,” Mia said, her voice bright, sincere. “Let’s be that kind of family. One that’s messy and honest and joyful. That talks. That hugs. That gets through things together.”
Marisol nodded, eyes shining. “We already are.”
Mia had never felt more cherished ... or more called out.
She was still curled between her sister and Sarah, their limbs lazily draped over each other like sunbathing lions. The laughter had quieted, replaced by something gentler. More focused.
A kind of collective determination. The kind Mia usually reserved for winning prom queen or finishing her calculus worksheet five minutes before class.
But this was different. This was life strategy.
And it was all for her.
“Okay,” Marisol said, suddenly sitting up and tying her hair into a quick bun. Her voice took on that tone Mia knew too well - the same tone she used when studying for finals or dealing with nonsense. “Let’s be real. We have two months. Maybe less.”
Sarah straightened beside her. “Two months to get her into Georgia Tech. With either a merit scholarship or enough planning to apply for grants.”
Mia blinked. “Wait-two months? I thought-”
“You want to apply for the regular decision, right?” Sarah asked gently.
Mia nodded. “I didn’t want to rush anything. I mean, early application deadlines are basically this week-”
“Exactly,” Marisol said. “You missed early admission. But that’s fine. It gives us until the second of January for regular.”
Mia let out a breath. “Okay. That sounds ... doable.”
“But,” Sarah continued, holding up a finger, “it’s only doable if we lock it in now. We need a roadmap.”
Mia sat up properly now, sensing the shift in energy. Her top slipped off one shoulder, but she didn’t bother fixing it.
“Alright,” she said softly. “Tell me what I need to do.”
Marisol gave a warm smile but didn’t sugarcoat it. “You’ve already got a lot going for you. Good grades, killer extracurriculars, AP classes, leadership roles. Your cheer captain status, drama club, community volunteering - all that matters.”
Mia nodded. “But?”
Sarah took over. “Your SATs.”
Mia winced. “I know. I got a 1410 on my first try.”
“That’s solid,” Marisol said, “but if you want to even be considered for a full Georgia Tech scholarship, you need at least a 1500. Ideally 1520+.”
“I can do it,” Mia said, though her voice sounded more like a question than a vow.
“You will do it,” Sarah said firmly. “With our help.”
“And probably more orgasms,” Marisol smirked.
“Probably,” Mia laughed nervously.
They smiled, but the tone remained clear: this wasn’t a game.
Sarah leaned over and pulled a yellow legal pad from the coffee table drawer. “Okay. Let’s list everything.”
She wrote MIA’S GT MASTERPLAN across the top.
Mia swallowed hard.
1. SAT Retake – Dec. 2nd
“That gives you three full weeks more to prep,” Sarah said. “We’ll get practice tests, a schedule, and track progress. You already know everything - it’s just about honing your skills.”
“Bharath will handle most of your math review,” Marisol added. “He’s brutal but fair.”
“I’ll work on reading and vocab with you,” Sarah offered. “Test your writing strategy too.”
2. AP Exams – May, but
“You need to finish all assignments, labs, and projects cleanly this semester to qualify,” Marisol said.
“Which means no missed classes, no late work,” Sarah added. “Today’s an exception, but that’s it.”
Mia nodded slowly, her stomach tightening.
3. College Application – Jan 1 Regular Decision
“You need to finish your college essays by the first week of December,” Sarah said. “So we can review and edit it twice.”
“Do not rely on your English teacher,” Marisol added. “We’ll be better editors.”
“You’re only applying to two schools, right?” Sarah confirmed.
“Georgia State as backup. Georgia Tech as target,” Mia said.
They nodded.
“You need at least two from teachers,” Marisol said. “Math or science for GT. English or history for balance.”
“And one from your counselor,” Sarah added. “That’s three total.”
“I’ve already asked Ms. Donaldson,” Mia said. “She agreed.”
“Good,” Marisol nodded. “Make sure she’s aware of your leadership, volunteering, and that you’re aiming for a CS major.”
Sarah looked up. “You’re doing computer science?”
Mia hesitated. “Yeah. Bharath ... inspired me.”
Both girls smiled.
“You’ll crush it,” Sarah said.
“We’ll help with FAFSA,” Marisol said. “And Sarah’s great with writing plans for grant applications.”
“We’ll have essays ready just in case,” Sarah said. “Better to prepare early than scramble later.”
“You need to keep Mama happy,” Marisol said. “Visit home every day unless you can be with us. Be present. Help out.”
“This cannot feel like rebellion,” Sarah added. “It has to look like focus.”
Mia nodded again, eyes wide.
“Sleepovers twice a week max,” Marisol said. “Weekends only until December,” Sarah added.
“No staying over if you have a major test the next day.”
Mia made a small noise - a cross between a sigh and a squeak. “You guys sound like a PTA meeting.”
“We’re your harem mothers now,” Marisol grinned.
“Discipline and devotion,” Sarah added with a wink.
Mia stared at the list. Her stomach fluttered.
This was real.
This was the price of the future she wanted.
“I didn’t realize how much it all was,” she said quietly.
“It’s a lot,” Marisol said gently. “But you’re not alone.”
Sarah reached out and held her hand. “We’ll do it together.”
Mia felt her throat tighten.
Not out of fear.
But out of love.
She looked at these two women - so powerful, so intelligent, so grounded - and felt something shift deep inside her.
This was more than lust. More than romance.
This was sisterhood.
Mentorship.
A sacred bond wrapped in humor and affection and spreadsheet-level precision.
“You’re not just my sisters,” Mia whispered. “You’re my heroes.”
Marisol’s expression softened. Sarah smiled, eyes bright.
“We’re your family,” Sarah said.
Mia blinked back sudden tears.
“I want to earn it,” she whispered. “All of it. GT. Bharath. This family. You.”
“You already have,” Marisol said, pulling her in for a hug.
Sarah wrapped her arms around both of them.
And for a while, they just sat there.
Holding each other.
Planning a future that was suddenly very, very real.
The afternoon sun had begun to shift - its light turning more golden, shadows stretching just a little longer across the carpet. The legal pad on the coffee table had been pushed aside, its lines of plans and deadlines forgotten, at least for now.
Mia was nestled comfortably between Sarah and Marisol, her head on Marisol’s shoulder, legs stretched across Sarah’s lap. The intensity of their earlier strategy session had given way to a softer quiet. Not silence - but reflection. Thoughtful. Drowsy. Full of emotion.
But Marisol was clearly still thinking.
Mia could tell by the way her sister’s fingertips tapped gently against her knee. The kind of rhythmic pause that only came when Marisol was holding back a thought too big to just drop.
Then she spoke.
“We’ve talked about your future,” she said softly. “But what about him?”
Mia blinked. “Bharath’s future?”
Sarah slowly looked up from where she was tracing absent circles along Mia’s calf. “Yeah,” she murmured. “We’ve never really talked about ... what happens if he has to go back with you.”
Mia frowned. “Go back?”
“To India,” Marisol said. “I found out about him. The internet doesn’t really let people keep secrets anymore. His dad runs a company. Something serious. Big IT services or something. I’m not sure what that means. And Bharath’s the only son.”
“Oh...” Mia breathed.
Sarah nodded. “If that’s true, then it’s not just about graduating or getting a job. It’s legacy. Expectations. He might be obligated to take over.”
“But he never talks about it,” Mia said. “He lives like...”
“Like he’s broke,” Marisol finished, smirking.
Sarah chuckled. “Right? That tiny dorm room. Sharing snacks. That one hoodie he wears three days in a row.”
“He’s so frugal,” Mia added. “Even his damn shampoo’s off-brand.”
They all giggled - that soft, conspiratorial kind of laughter that only came when someone you loved turned out to be more than you’d ever guessed.
“Which makes it even more real,” Sarah said. “He’s not hiding wealth because he’s ashamed. He just ... doesn’t use it.”
Mia’s heart fluttered. “God, that makes him even hotter.”
Marisol laughed. “Right?”
But the warmth of the moment was cut by the gravity that lingered underneath.
“What if he has to go?” Mia asked. “Like ... really has to.”
“He wouldn’t leave us,” Sarah said without pause.
Mia looked at her. “You sound sure.”
Sarah met her eyes. “I am. He’s not capable of walking away from love. Not unless he thought it was better for us.”
Marisol exhaled slowly. “And that’s the problem.”
Mia sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”
Marisol pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top. “He’d never abandon us. But he’d also never ask us to follow him. Not if it meant giving up our dreams. That’s not how he works.”
Sarah nodded solemnly. “He’d make the sacrifice. Silently. For our sake.”
Mia felt something cold curl at the edge of her chest. “So we’d have to stop him.”
“Exactly,” Marisol said. “We have to figure out what we are willing to do. If it ever comes to that.”
The question hovered.
It wasn’t just hypothetical anymore. Not in their hearts.
Sarah, calm and grounded, spoke first. “If he has to go back - tomorrow, a year from now, whenever - I’m going.”
“No hesitation?” Mia asked.
Sarah shook her head. “He’s my future. That’s it. The country doesn’t matter. The job doesn’t matter. I’ll find my place wherever he is.”
Mia turned to her sister.
Marisol looked ... conflicted.
“I want to say I’d go,” she said. “And part of me knows I would. In fact I already said I would. But...”
Mia already knew. “Mami.”
Marisol nodded. “She’s barely coming to terms with the fact that I’m with Bharath. Throw in moving across the world for a man she still thinks is a passing phase...”
“She’d explode,” Mia said softly.
Sarah was quiet, her brow furrowed.
“But even beyond Mami,” Marisol said, “I’ve always thought I’d build something here. I don’t want to run away from that just because I’m in love. It has to be a real decision. Not a romantic escape.”
Mia chewed her bottom lip.
She was the youngest. The one who had just stepped into this family. The one still tethered to high school, to her mother, to her hometown.
She’d never considered leaving America, let alone planting a life across the ocean.
But Bharath...
He was home. He was hers.
“I don’t know what I’d do,” she admitted. “Not yet.”
“Then don’t decide now,” Sarah said gently.
“But think about it,” Marisol added. “Because one day ... it might be a choice we all face.”
They were quiet again.
Not scared.
Not broken.
Just ... realistic.
Mia leaned back into the couch, feeling her pulse slow.
She had a plan for college now.
A path.
But this was the first time she had thought beyond it. To what kind of life she wanted. What kind of woman she’d have to become - brave, bold, compassionate - to stand next to a man like Bharath and not feel like she was falling behind.
She looked at her sister and Sarah - so calm, so ready to fight for love and still protect their dreams.
That’s what I want to be, she thought.
Not just Bharath’s girl.
But a woman worthy of him.
And worthy of them.
There was a long pause after the talk of Bharath possibly returning to India.
Mia felt it in her stomach - the twisty, uncertain knot of “what if.” The kind that no amount of snuggling could untangle.
But something shifted then. Not in the room. Not in the light.
In them.
Marisol let out a soft sigh and sat up straighter, her hands running through her curls. She looked over at Sarah and Mia, and something had changed in her eyes. Still serious, still grounded - but ... lighter.
“You know what?” she said suddenly. “Screw it.”
Mia blinked. “What?”
“We’ve spent so much time worrying about what could go wrong,” Marisol said, her voice brightening. “What if we imagined what happens if it all goes right?”
Sarah looked up, a small grin tugging at her lips. “You mean like ... if we get the happy ending?”
“Yes,” Marisol said firmly. “Let’s dream a little.”
Mia sat up, her heart already skipping. “Okay. I’m in.”
Marisol looked thoughtful. “Alright, picture it. Let’s say he finishes his degree. Maybe he does a master’s degree. Gets a great job here or convinces his dad to open a U.S. branch of their company.”
“Or,” Sarah added, eyes sparkling, “he starts something new here - something that’s his. Maybe with our help. You know he’s brilliant.”
“He really is,” Mia whispered.
“We move in together,” Marisol said. “Somewhere with space. Maybe not flashy, but cozy. Big kitchen. A backyard.”
“A garden,” Sarah added. “With flowers and herbs. And maybe a hammock.”
Mia’s smile widened. “A little library nook. All his nerdy books. And mine too.”
“And a bathtub big enough for all of us,” Sarah teased.
Mia giggled. “At least four.”
The girls looked at her.
She flushed. “I mean ... if I’m still in.”
“Of course you are,” Marisol said gently, squeezing her hand.
“I better be,” Mia teased, though the emotion behind the words was real.
Sarah leaned back into the couch, closing her eyes. “We’d cook dinner together. Fight over music. Take turns spoiling him when he’s stressed. And every night, he’d come home to us.”
“He’d never have to choose,” Marisol said. “He’d be ours, and we’d be his. All of us.”
Mia looked down at her hands, smiling. “What about Mami?”
There was a pause. A softer one.
“She may never love it,” Marisol admitted. “But maybe ... over time, she’ll see how happy we are. How much in love we are.”
“She already sees how much he’s changed you,” Sarah said. “And you’re still you, just ... steadier.”
“Maybe I can help,” Mia whispered. “Show her I still care. Make sure I don’t lose her, either.”
The other two nodded, visibly touched.
“She’s your mother,” Sarah said. “But she’s not the only one who gets to define your future.”
Mia swallowed. “What about ... the really far future?”
“Like five years from now?” Marisol asked.
Mia nodded.
“We’ll all have careers,” Sarah said. “We won’t just be ‘his girls.’ We’ll be ourselves. Educated. Driven.”
“And still in love,” Marisol added, softer now. “Deeper than ever.”
Mia thought about it - about a house filled with warm light and soft mornings, about the scent of fresh coffee and the way Bharath would curl sleepily around whichever of them he found first.
“Maybe ... a baby?” she asked softly.
Both girls looked at her - not with shock, but with awe.
“Eventually,” Marisol said. “If it’s right.”
“We’d raise them together,” Sarah said. “All of us. The most loved children in the world. We would all be their mommies - regardless of who the birth mother is.”
Mia’s throat tightened. “I want that.”
“You’d be a great mom,” Marisol whispered.
“So would you,” Mia whispered back.
They all grew quiet again, but this time ... it was peaceful.
The dream wasn’t just fantasy. It could happen. It would take work. Sacrifice. Endless conversations and courage. But it wasn’t impossible.
And just maybe ... it was already starting.
The sun was beginning its long descent by the time Bharath returned.
He stepped up onto Sarah’s porch quietly, the weight of the walk still in his shoulders. It hadn’t cleared his mind - not entirely - but it had helped him accept one thing: he had to talk to them. All of them. About his father. His future. The uncomfortable truth he’d quietly carried from the moment he’d boarded the plane in Chennai.
He pushed the door open, bracing for noise, teasing, maybe music.
Instead, he heard only laughter. Soft. Low. Intimate.
And then - silence, broken by the scratch of pen on paper and the occasional flip of a page.
He stepped inside.
The living room was glowing in warm gold light. Not from lamps - from them. The girls were sprawled in a sunlit heap on the floor and couch cushions, all in casual clothes and soft socks. Marisol leaned against a pillow, her curls tied into a high knot, a notebook open on her knees. Mia lay belly-down on a blanket, scribbling into a pink spiral pad with her feet in the air. Sarah sat sideways against the couch base, surrounded by loose pages, a calculator, and a heavily highlighted college planning guide.
Notebooks were everywhere - tossed open, stacked in uneven piles, pens in every direction like little arrows of intent.
The air smelled faintly of cinnamon gum and ballpoint ink.
And all three girls were beaming.
Bharath froze in the doorway, suddenly unsure whether to laugh or cry.
He’d left to get his head on straight - and they’d stayed behind and quietly organized the universe.
He cleared his throat.
Three heads turned at once.
“Bharath!” Mia sat up immediately, grinning. “You’re back!”
“We got carried away,” Sarah said, gesturing to the chaos around them.
“Did you study bomb the apartment?” he asked.
Marisol raised a hand lazily. “We’re fixing my sister’s entire academic life.”
Mia puffed up proudly. “I have a GT plan now. With color-coded deadlines. It’s terrifying.”
Bharath took a few steps in, his brow furrowed as he looked over the mess - schedules, test prep plans, application outlines, even a flowchart with “Financial Aid: Best-Case/Worst-Case” in block letters.
He blinked. “How long was I gone?”
“Not long,” Sarah said with a small laugh. “We’re just that good.”
He smiled - but it didn’t fully reach his eyes.
They noticed.
Marisol sat up straighter. “You okay?”
“I ... yeah. I just need to say something.”
The girls exchanged a glance, their playfulness dimming into quiet attention.
He sat on the edge of the couch cushion beside them, bracing his hands on his knees.
“I’ve been thinking about something for a long time,” he began. “And I feel stupid saying it now, after everything today. But I can’t keep it inside anymore.”
Mia scooted closer. “What is it?”
He looked at all of them - these women who trusted him, who gave him their hearts and futures and bodies, who planned their lives with him in mind.
“I don’t live like it, but my family back home ... we’re wealthy,” he said. “My father runs a large IT company in Chennai. A very successful one.”
He paused. Still no reaction.
“I’m his only child,” he added. “He expects me to return someday and take over.”
Still silence. No gasps. No wide eyes.
That surprised him more than anything.
“I didn’t tell you because...” he trailed off. “I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to feel pressure. Or think I was hiding wealth. The truth is ... I just don’t think about it. I live the way I live because it feels right.”
Marisol leaned back on her hands, an amused smile tugging at her lips.
Sarah tilted her head. “That’s not shocking, Bharath.”
Mia looked up at him sweetly. “We know.”
He blinked. “What?”
Sarah reached over and grabbed a folded page from a spiral notebook. “Altavista. Yahoo. We found the company website. Your dad’s name is on it.”
Marisol shrugged. “Your last name is on like, three business articles online. It did take us a while to link the name to you though - given that you seem to go out of your way to hide that side of you.”
Mia giggled.
Bharath let out a slow, incredulous breath. “So ... you all knew?”
“We did,” Sarah said gently. “But it doesn’t change who you are.”
“And it didn’t feel like hiding,” Marisol added. “It’s just ... your nature.”
Mia smirked. “Frugal king. You have no excuses for your clothes now. They need an upgrade.”
That made him snort. “Hey! My clothes are fine.”
Marisol let out a scandalized gasp. “Fine? Mi amor, you own two pairs of jeans, three hoodies - both of which were free that you got during orientation week, a few sweaters, and a fleet of white undershirts that look like they were passed down from Gandhi himself.”
“Hey! Gandhi never wore undershirts and my undershirts are comfy!” he protested. “Classic fit! Timeless...”
Sarah arched an eyebrow. “So is the Roman Empire. Doesn’t mean we want to wear it.”
“It’s minimalism,” he said defensively. “It’s a vibe.”
“It’s a crime against cotton,” Marisol shot back.
He lifted his hands like a monk under siege. “I live simply. It keeps me grounded.”
“You’re grounded, alright,” Sarah said. “Like, literally - you wear the same sneakers every day. I’ve seen better treads on a school bus tire.”
Mia leaned in sweetly. “Now that you’ve come out as secretly loaded, it’s our moral responsibility to upgrade you. You’re basically a restoration project now.”
“Excuse me,” he said, mock-affronted. “This,” he gestured at himself, “is a carefully cultivated aesthetic.”
“An aesthetic that needs to be thrown into the Goodwill bin with prejudice along with your stash of Wild Stone,” Marisol declared.
Sarah gave a solemn nod. “We’ll be conducting a ceremonial burning next week.”
“Hey! That hoodie is sentimental! And don’t you dare touch my Wild Stone!”
“It’s sentient,” Mia muttered. “I swear it tried to run away last time you threw it on the couch.”
The three of them broke into laughter. Bharath tried to look wounded, but his lips were already twitching.
“I still should’ve told you,” he said, quieter now.
“You just did,” Sarah said warmly. “That’s what matters.”
He hesitated. “There’s more. I don’t know if I’ll stay in the U.S. forever. I want this. You. But my family ... they expect something else.”
A beat passed.
Sarah was the first to speak. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. I told you once. I’ll say it again. You’re my forever.”
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