Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
38: Lighting the Flame
Coming of Age Sex Story: 38: Lighting the Flame - 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 didn’t want to wake up. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The bed was a furnace in the best way, the kind of heat that seeps into your bones until you forget what cold feels like. Bharath’s arm was heavy across her waist, his palm half-curled over her breast like he’d fallen asleep holding it and never thought to let go. Every so often his thumb twitched in his sleep, brushing her nipple just enough to make her stomach clench. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.
His chest was a slow, steady rise against her back, warm breath brushing the nape of her neck. Somehow, in his sleep, he’d knotted their legs together so tight she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. It was ridiculous, how completely he seemed to cover her. Like she’d been folded into him overnight and might never get out.
And in front of her, pressed into her chest, was Marisol.
Her sister’s breathing was soft and even, her body curled protectively around Mia like she was still the little kid who needed shielding. One of Marisol’s legs had hooked over Bharath’s hip in the night, locking the three of them together like some warm, breathing knot. Mia didn’t have to open her eyes to know Marisol was smiling in her sleep; she could feel the faint curve of it against her own cheek.
The pressure in Mia’s chest was almost painful. She’d thought she’d been wanted before. She’d even thought she’d been loved. But this - being here, like this - wasn’t anything she’d ever felt. Not until him.
She gasped softly when Bharath’s fingers moved again. Even in sleep, it was like his hands couldn’t forget her. Couldn’t stop exploring her. She shifted slightly, trying - and failing - to ignore the slow burn pooling in her belly.
Last night, Bharath’s mouth had traced her collarbones. His hands moved with the confidence of someone who had memorized every curve of her body. When he had finally taken her breasts into his mouth, demanding and hungry, she nearly wept from how right it felt. She made him explore them thoroughly to his great delight - ensuring that he refreshed the many marks she made him give her the last time. She hadn’t known that she was so sensitive there before Bharath, but anything and everything he did made her almost weep with pleasure.
He hadn’t rushed. He listened to her tells and adapted to maximize her arousal. He took great efforts to trigger her pleasure centers as he committed them to memory. Unlike the other boys who treated her like a prop in their own fantasy, Bharath lavished her with his fingers and mouth and tongue. It took all her willpower to not ravage Bharath - pact to wait be damned. But she didn’t want to disappoint him. The thought of dishonoring him in any way acted like cold water. Although she didn’t understand his reasons completely, she would respect his wishes.
Behind him, she could feel the faint shift of breath - Sarah, surely, draped over Bharath’s back like a velvet sash. She imagined her beautiful face nuzzled into his shoulder blade, her legs tucked between his, the curve of her hip pressed against his spine. Mia didn’t need to see it. She could imagine the look on Sarah’s face.
She smiled into Marisol’s hair, her heart aching with happiness. This was life, and for once ... she didn’t want to dream anymore. Because she was already there. Mia didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her breath trembled as she closed her eyes again. She could feel everything.
Mia could hear Bharath’s heartbeat against her back, the heat of Marisol’s bare chest against her own, the weight of his leg thrown over both of theirs. The slick warmth blooming between her thighs, begging, aching for something more.
And yet, beneath the haze of heat, another feeling tugged at her - colder, heavier.
The echo of his words from a couple of days ago came to her like an unwelcome guest...
“I might need to go back to India after graduation.”
It had been said so gently, like he hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood. Sarah nodded like it made sense. Marisol had been unsure about what she would do because of Mami. Mia had stayed silent. She didn’t know how to respond.
India?
Her entire life was here. Her school, her dreams, her mom. Her cheer team, her scholarship essays, her future.
But now ... Mia sucked in a shaky breath as Bharath’s fingers twitched again, exploring the underside of her breast. Her thighs squeezed together instinctively.
Now the thought of not seeing him felt like someone had yanked the ground out from under her.
What did it mean? To follow someone across the world? To leave behind everything familiar, everything safe? Questions flooded her mind as she had stared at her sister and Sarah at that moment.
“Could I do that? Am I that much in love with him? Am I that kind of girl who would drop everything for a man?”
Apparently the answer was yes...
“I thought I was in love before,” she whispered into the dark. “But that wasn’t love. That was ... practice.”
A soft gasp escaped her as Bharath’s other hand shifted lower in his sleep, fingers drifting over her stomach, knuckles brushing the waistband of her sodden thong.
He’s not even awake, she thought with something between awe and desperation. And he’s already destroying me.
She tilted her head slightly, trying to get a better look at him. His face was peaceful, his brow smooth, lips parted just slightly. A shadow of a smile flickered there - dreaming of something, someone.
Was it her? Was it Marisol or Sarah? Was it ... all of them?
The idea made her dizzy...
Her eyes wandered back to Marisol. Her fierce, loyal, wild-hearted sister. The one who had always looked out for her. Fought for her. Shielded her, and now... shared with her.
How was this real?
How had Marisol gone from protective big sister to co-wife in the span of a few breaths? How had she so confidently wrapped her arms around both Mia and Bharath as if she wanted this just as much?
Mia’s hand moved gently, tracing a lock of Marisol’s hair.
She remembered the look in her eyes last night. The way Marisol had kissed her forehead before letting Bharath undress her. The way her voice had shaken with emotion when she whispered: “He’ll take care of you.”
And he had. God, he had.
Bharath had rewritten Mia’s understanding of her own body. Of connection. Of love.
Tears prickled her eyes. Truth be told, she hardly knew him. A few months ago, he was a name. A rumor. A boy in her sister’s stories. Now, he was everything.
But what about Mami?
The thought stabbed through her warmth like a shard of ice.
Their mother had raised them alone. Had fought for them. Had brought them to this country. Mia owed her everything. Everything.
How could she leave? How could she even consider following a boy - even this boy - halfway around the world?
Would Marisol go too?
Her heart thudded. Of course she would. Marisol would burn her entire world to follow Bharath if he asked. You could see it in her eyes. Feel it in the way she kissed him. Hear it in the way she said “our man.”
Mia whimpered softly.
Could she do the same?
Could she leave her school, her future here ... their mother? Could she even say goodbye to Atlanta, to Georgia, to the familiar rhythms of American life?
The ache in her belly was unbearable. But somehow, this - this - was what gave her the answer.
Yes.
She could leave. She could go anywhere. Endure anything. If it meant waking up this way - with him.
She would learn Tamil like Sarah and Marisol. She would wear a damn saree every day if she needed to. She would live in a hut if that’s what it took.
A tear slipped down her cheek as she realized how much he meant to her.
Marisol stirred awake and for a moment, they simply looked at each other. Sister to sister. Heart to heart. Mia didn’t need to say anything. Marisol smiled faintly. Her hand reached up and tucked Mia’s hair behind her ear.
And then - so softly it barely registered - Marisol said, “I knew.”
Mia blinked. “Knew what?”
Marisol’s thumb brushed her cheek. “That it would only take one night.”
Mia opened her mouth to reply, but Marisol was already pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You fit here,” Marisol murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
When Mia was silent, Marisol raised her head a little to look at her sister.
“Mia?” Marisol’s voice was still thick with sleep. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Before Mia could answer, a new warmth pressed against them - Sarah.
Still half-asleep, she had reluctantly peeled herself away from Bharath and wrapped herself around Marisol from behind, burying her face in her hair. Her arms snaked over Marisol’s waist and into the soft tangle of warmth between the sisters.
“Mmm ... You guys are so warm,” Sarah murmured.
However, when she opened one eye and saw Mia she froze. Her breath caught as she took in the wetness on Mia’s cheeks, the glimmer of unshed emotion in her eyes - and the look of stunned bliss that never left her face. It was a strange contradiction: ecstasy and heartbreak, joy and longing.
Sarah’s heart clenched.
“Oh, sweetheart...”
Marisol reached up and wiped a tear from Mia’s cheek with her thumb. Sarah kissed the other one away, her lips feather-light.
“What happened?”
Mia couldn’t speak at first.
She let them hold her, stroke her cheek, kiss her face. And then, when Bharath’s thumb flicked gently across her nipple again - sending another pulse of heat through to her womb - she gasped.
The girls smiled softly, knowingly.
“You’re not the first,” Sarah whispered against her skin.
“The first time I woke up with him like this,” Marisol murmured, “I sobbed into my pillow for ten minutes straight. I thought something was wrong with me.”
Sarah giggled. “I thought I was sick. Like I’d caught some strange emotional flu that made me obsessed with everything he touched. But then he started on me again and I was far from sick after”
They both looked at Mia as she sniffled.
“It feels like I’m dreaming,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “And if I wake up ... I’ll forget what this felt like.”
“You won’t,” Marisol said gently. “You never forget the first time you wake up and realize you’re not just loved. You’re... his.”
Sarah nodded, pressing her lips softly to Mia’s temple.
Mia sighed.
The girls exchanged a smile as Bharath’s hand shifted.
Sarah leaned in, brushing her nose against Mia’s. “Want us to switch with you?”
“No!” Mia blurted, then clamped her mouth shut. “No. Please. Don’t. I-”
“You want to stay like this,” Marisol said with a knowing smile.
Mia nodded, cheeks flushed.
“I’d stay like this forever if I could,” she whispered. “Even if we never ... even if he never...”
Marisol’s expression softened. “You don’t need to finish that sentence.”
Sarah rested her head on Mia’s shoulder. “We know. We remember.”
Mia’s eyes fluttered closed again.
For a while, they just lay there - quiet, breathing, tangled. Bharath shifted again in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible against her neck before gently grinding his hips forward, pressing his arousal snugly against the swell of her ass.
Mia whimpered.
Marisol bit her lip, stifling a laugh. “Okay, this part is new.”
Sarah snorted. “Poor baby’s going to break if he keeps doing that.”
“I’m fine,” Mia said breathlessly.
“You’re leaking tears and shivering.”
“I said I’m fine.”
The three of them dissolved into quiet laughter, muffled by kisses and half-hearted nudges. But then Mia’s face turned serious again.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” she said. “Since I woke up.”
The girls immediately sobered.
“Go on,” Marisol said softly.
“It’s about what he said the other night. About him maybe going back to India.”
Sarah frowned. “You’re scared?”
Mia nodded, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know what to think back then. I didn’t even know what I felt for him. It was still ... new. I mean, I want him. I love him. But it hadn’t ... clicked.”
Marisol touched her hand.
“And now?”
Mia looked at her with wide, wet eyes. “Now, I don’t think I can live without him.”
The silence that followed was reverent.
Sarah broke it first. “Yeah. That’s the feeling.”
“I didn’t get it at first,” Mia whispered. “Not the way you two talked about him. I thought ... maybe you were exaggerating. Romanticizing.”
Marisol smiled faintly. “We weren’t.”
“I know that now.” Mia’s voice cracked. “God, do I know. This morning - waking up this way - I feel as if he is carved into my skin.”
Marisol reached for her, fingers sliding between Mia’s. “And yet you’re scared. Because of Mami.”
Mia nodded. “How can I leave her? She’s everything. She raised us alone. She brought us here. And now I’m thinking about throwing all that away to follow a boy I’ve known for less than a few months across the world?”
“You’re not throwing anything away,” Sarah said firmly. “You’re choosing. That’s different.”
“But it feels like betrayal.”
Sarah brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Did you ever think she might have done the same? Left something behind for love?”
Mia blinked. “What do you mean?”
Marisol’s voice was quiet. “Mom came here with Dad, remember? She didn’t have to leave Cuba. But she did. For him. For us.”
“Maybe she understands more than you think,” Sarah added.
“But what if she doesn’t?” Mia’s voice was small. “What if she hates me for it?”
“She won’t,” Marisol said. “She’ll worry. She’ll scold. But she’ll understand. Eventually.”
Mia gasped again.
The girls giggled again.
Mia blushed. “He’s not even awake. That’s the worst part.”
“The best part,” Marisol corrected. “He loves with his whole body - even in sleep.”
“I know,” Mia whispered.
She looked at them both.
“You two are okay with this?”
Marisol tilted her head. “With you loving him?”
“With all of us being ... this.”
Sarah kissed her forehead. “More than okay. We chose this.”
“We chose each other,” Marisol said. “And now we’re choosing you.”
Mia’s breath hitched again.
“I want to stay.”
Marisol smiled. “Then stay.”
“No matter what happens?”
Sarah grinned. “Especially if it involves more mornings like this.”
They all laughed again - quiet, delirious, and tangled in the most precious secret the world had to offer. Bharath stirred behind Mia, mumbling something in Tamil that none of them understood, and his hand finally stilled.
Mia let out one last soft sob as the final tear slid down her cheek.
Then she kissed her sister’s shoulder, let Sarah nuzzle her from behind, and finally - finally - surrendered to the feeling that had overtaken her since dawn.
She belonged here with them.
Something felt different - not wrong, just different.
Bharath’s breath stirred as he began to drift up from sleep, the edges of consciousness brushing against the warmth of a morning he didn’t yet understand. There was softness, yes. Familiar warmth, comforting pressure. But also something new. The way his hands were positioned - resting atop soft curves too full, too high, too perfect to belong to Sarah or Marisol.
There was a pulse beneath his palm.
A rhythmic rise and fall that matched the rapid flutter of his own heart.
His fingers shifted instinctively and the shape under his hand responded with the faintest tremble. It wasn’t Marisol’s body. She was strong, muscled beneath her softness. It wasn’t Sarah either. Her frame was sleeker, narrower, with a dancer’s arch.
This ... This was someone else.
His eyes blinked open in surprise as the morning light slanted through the curtains in golden streaks.
The first thing he saw was them - his apsaras - Marisol and Sarah, nestled in each other’s arms, curled on their sides and facing him. Their cheeks were flushed, their eyes open, watching him and smiling softly.
And then he remembered.
Mia.
He looked down slowly, heart hammering - and found her in his arms.
Her hair tickled his chest as her cheek rested just above his heart. Her body was molded against his like it had always belonged there as she fit into the crook of his arm.
She tilted her head up then, eyes meeting his. The look in her eyes hit him harder than the morning light.
Bharath swallowed hard.
Then - almost shyly - he leaned down and pressed the softest, most reverent kiss to her lips. It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t hungry.
Mia trembled as they both felt the electric shock of their connection once again.
A breathless, full-bodied tremor rippled through her as the kiss deepened only slightly - just enough for their souls to touch. Her fingers curled into his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt like she never wanted to let go.
Sarah hummed in agreement. “Mia woke up looking like an angel who just won the lottery.”
“You girls are joking, I think I have been winning it for a long time now.” Bharath said, voice hoarse from sleep. The girls grinned. Mia was still clinging to him, blinking slowly as if trying to sear every detail of this moment into her memory.
“Morning, mi amor,” Marisol whispered.
“Morning, handsome,” Sarah added, reaching out to trail a lazy finger down Bharath’s jawline.
Bharath’s cheeks colored, but his smile only deepened - soft, radiant, vulnerable.
Marisol sat up slightly and leaned in to kiss him, her lips lingering on his for a long, tender moment. Sarah followed, cupping his cheek and pressing her forehead to his as she kissed him with a quiet ache.
“You’re not getting out of bed today,” she whispered against his lips.
“I wasn’t planning to,” Bharath murmured, voice dazed.
“Good,” Marisol said. “Because we’re not done with you.”
Mia - emboldened by their affection - suddenly shifted, scrambling upright and then back into his lap, straddling him with the grace of someone who belonged nowhere else.
“Hold me again,” she said, eyes wide.
Arms wrapping around her waist, drawing her back into his chest.
Mia let out a contented sigh, burying her face against his neck.
“I didn’t want you to wake up,” she whispered. “I was scared it would end.”
He kissed her temple. “It’s not ending.”
She looked up at him then - eyes shining. “Promise?”
He nodded, forehead brushing hers. “Promise.”
With a rustle of sheets and the softest of giggles, Marisol and Sarah moved in closer again, wrapping themselves around both of them - Sarah to Bharath’s side, her leg draped across his thigh, her hand curling around his bicep. Marisol nestled to his other side, tucking herself beneath his arm, her head resting just above Mia’s shoulder.
A soft, perfect stillness settled over the bed. Bharath sat there, stunned, as their warmth settled over him. Sarah kissed his jaw. Marisol kissed his shoulder.
Mia leaned back into his chest and whispered, “I don’t want anything more in life.”
He held them all tighter. He didn’t feel worthy. In that moment, Bharath understood something new - something breathtaking. He wasn’t just part of their world. He was the center of it. Not because he demanded it. Not because he had earned it through power or games. But because he loved - fiercely, reverently, endlessly. And in return, they revolved around him like stars drawn to a sun that never asked to shine but couldn’t help it.
The stillness didn’t last. It couldn’t - not with Mia’s heart thudding in her chest.
She clutched Bharath tighter, feeling every inch of him around her: the strength of his arms, the warmth of his breath, the steady beat of the heart she now knew was hers. But even in this perfect moment, something inside her ached - because she hadn’t said it yet. Not the truth that had been building inside her for days. Not the truth that had shattered her chest open the moment she woke up in his arms.
And if she didn’t say it now ... she never would.
Her voice trembled as she spoke, so soft it was almost a breath against his collarbone.
“Bharath...”
He looked down at her, eyes filled with quiet awe.
She pulled back just enough to look at him - really look at him. Her voice was thick with emotion, and her hands gripped his forearms like she needed him to hold her up for this.
“I know people would say this is too early. That we’re too young, or that I don’t know what I’m feeling yet. That it’s hormones or fairytales or some kind of fantasy. But I don’t care.”
Her voice cracked. Her eyes brimmed.
“Because I know. I feel it in my chest, like a drum. It’s in my head when I try to sleep. It’s in my hands when I reach for you and can’t stop.”
She swallowed. “You are my world, Bharath.”
Marisol let out a soft gasp, already sniffling.
Sarah was crying openly, silently, her hand stroking Mia’s back like she couldn’t not touch her in this moment.
“I thought I was in love before,” Mia whispered, voice trembling, “but none of it ever felt this way. You just ... walked into my life. And everything else has faded.”
She cupped his face now, fingertips trembling against his cheek. Mia took a moment to compose herself.
“I-I-I love you,” she said. “I know it’s crazy. I don’t care. The thought of waking up without you makes me feel ... wrong. Like my skin doesn’t fit.”
Bharath’s throat was tight. He couldn’t speak at first. He could only stare - at her tear-streaked cheeks, at the strength of her confession, at the softness of her naked body trembling in his lap.
Sarah reached across and took Mia’s hand. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, voice rough with emotion.
“We feel it too,” Marisol added, her eyes shining. “That same truth.”
Then she leaned in and kissed Mia’s cheek, followed by Sarah kissing the other.
“You’re one of us,” Sarah said. “And he’s already yours.”
Bharath finally found his voice. It came out low, cracked, and reverent.
“Mia.”
Her name was a vow in itself.
He reached up, cradled her face between his hands, and kissed her again - truly this time. This kiss carried all the things he hadn’t found words for yet.
She let out this tiny sound as her knees went weak. Marisol’s hand caught her before she could stumble.
“God I-I don’t know how to say this in words - but I love you just as much as I do Sarah and Mari. You’re not just a spark to me. You’re the light of my life just like Sarah and Mari. Am I making sense?”
He looked at her tenderly as his hands moved to her waist, holding her close. “I feel the same for you. What I feel when I look at Sarah. What I feel when Marisol walks into a room. That same pull. That same ache to be better, to deserve you. And...”
Mia broke then, collapsing into his chest with a sob of joy so full it made all three of them tighten around him like they were afraid to let the moment escape.
It was Marisol who whispered first.
“Then let’s say it. All of us.”
She reached for Sarah’s hand. Sarah reached for Mia’s. Mia looped hers back to Bharath’s.
“We love you, Bharath,” they whispered in unison, eyes locked on him. “We’re yours. All of us. Every bit that matters, every bit that doesn’t.”
He looked at them - his beautiful, fierce, loyal, unstoppable girls - and he could only nod, because his voice caught before he could get the words out.
“I ... I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he finally said. “But I swear I’ll never take you for granted. I will attempt to protect you and cherish you.”
He looked at each of them in turn. “You are mine because you chose me.”
They smiled as Mia claimed his mouth tenderly again.
Sarah kissed his neck.
Marisol kissed his shoulder.
And there, in that bed - wrapped around each other - they exchanged a vow more sacred than anything a church or temple could offer.
A vow of belonging.
It should’ve been funny.
Three girls tangled around one sleepy boy, moving like a single, overheated creature through the apartment in the golden hush of early morning.
It should’ve been clumsy - an awkward mess of limbs and giggles.
But it wasn’t.
There was too much reverence in the way they touched each other. Too much heat humming just beneath the surface of their skin. Too much want in every shared breath, every brush of fingertips, every heartbeat that pulsed like a drum between them.
They simply... didn’t want to let go.
So when Bharath finally shifted beneath them, when he groaned and murmured that he needed to get up or risk fusing to the mattress, Mia reacted before he could even sit up fully.
She launched into his lap, bare and radiant, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and throwing her legs around his waist with the ease of a cheerleader and the intensity of a lover who’d already waited long enough.
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” she said, breathless and gleaming.
Bharath caught her out of instinct, hands gripping her thighs with wide-eyed surprise. “Mia -”
But before he could finish, Sarah pressed herself to his left side, arms coiling around his torso, and Marisol mirrored her on the right - one hand slipping behind his neck, the other splaying across his back.
“You’re ours now,” Sarah murmured.
“Better get used to it,” Marisol added, lips brushing his ear.
Bharath chuckled, low and shaky. “I feel like a jungle gym.”
“You’re our gym,” Mia said smugly, nuzzling into his neck. “Now take us to the shower. We need to cool down.”
“I - what? All three of you?”
“You’ve been working out, haven’t you?” Marisol teased, kissing his shoulder.
“Show us what you’ve got, big guy,” Sarah purred.
He groaned.
And then - without warning, without thinking - he stood.
Just like that.
Mia was very light - hardly a burden at all. She clung to him like ivy, her thighs firm around his hips, her arms gripping his shoulders as if she could melt into him. But now, with Sarah and Marisol clinging to him as well, somehow ... somehow, he willed himself to do it.
He staggered a lot, adjusting his footing - but he didn’t fall.
The girls gasped - first in surprise, then in awe.
“Oh my god,” Mia whispered, looking down at him like he’d just lifted a bus.
“You’re actually doing it,” Sarah breathed, wide-eyed.
Marisol blinked, stunned. “You’re lifting all three of us.”
“I am lifting Mia. You and Sarah are just hanging off me”
“Hush ... keep moving horsey”.
Bharath’s muscles burned. His heart pounded. But he couldn’t stop the grin that broke across his face.
“Guess the gym is paying off.”
The girls cheered, laughing breathlessly as he somehow dragged/carried them - naked, tangled, and impossibly in love - to the bathroom.
The door banged open. The tiles were cool beneath his feet. The steam from the earlier shower still lingered faintly in the air. With a grunt of effort and one last step, Bharath stepped into the shower stall, somehow still dragging all of them as they clung on to him like limpets.
“Our hero!”
“Time for your reward señor!”
Mia kissed his neck. Marisol buried her face in his hair as Sarah reached behind him and turned the tap. Warm water sprayed to life above them, washing over the four of them in a sudden cascade.
The water ran over their bodies as they slid down his frame. He cradled them as they pressed against him from all sides, their hands exploring, their breath mingling, their eyes shining.
No one spoke for a long moment.
Just the sound of water as they breathed each other in. They relished the sensation of Wet skin against wet skin. Mia leaned into his chest, water trickling over her back. “You really are a wonder,” she whispered.
“Yeah?” he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
Marisol cupped his face, eyes wet not just from the shower. “She’s not wrong.”.
Steam curled upward, wrapping the four of them in a veil of warmth. Their bodies shimmered under the spray, but no one moved to turn it down. It wasn’t about the heat. It was about the moment.
Marisol and Sarah stepped back slightly, creating a soft half-circle around Mia and Bharath, their eyes glowing with affection and unspoken pride. This moment - this ritual - belonged to Mia now.