Their Wonder Years: Season 1: Fall 1998
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
48: What They Chose to See
Coming of Age Sex Story: 48: What They Chose to See - 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
The room remained hushed after the tension had finally settled. The tea on the low table still steamed, untouched.
Marisol leaned back into the armchair, her arms still crossed, though her posture had softened slightly. Sarah was curled on the couch beside her, still processing, her eyes flicking between the two girls who now sat with their hands clasped, shoulder to shoulder like comrades before a trial.
Zara shifted first, her voice just above a whisper. “You’re probably wondering why we did all this. Why we cared enough to spy, to cry, to kiss each other like lost girls tonight.”
Ayesha turned to her, lips parted, but it was Zara who said, “Let us explain. From the beginning.”
Marisol’s brow arched. “Start talking.”
Ayesha took a deep breath. “It started the first day during orientation week. The day I arrived on campus.”
She looked down at her mug, as if the warmth might give her courage.
“I met him before any of you did,” she said, almost wistfully.
“We rode together from the airport. That whole drive ... I don’t know what it was. He was quiet, awkward, but ... there was something so pure about him ... genuine. Every word he said came from a real place. And his eyes...”
She blinked quickly, swallowing hard. “He had these huge brown eyes that looked at you like you mattered.”
Sarah tilted her head, intrigued. “So what happened?”
Ayesha’s jaw clenched. “I threw him away.”
Marisol straightened a little.
“I ... I threw him away,” Ayesha whispered, her voice splintering. Then, after a long silence, almost choking: “I threw away a god. And I hate myself for even saying it out loud.”
“Why?” Sarah glanced at Marisol, her expression more curious than accusatory now.
Zara spoke up before Ayesha could. Her voice was level, but laced with shame. “Because of me.”
Ayesha immediately reached out and gripped her hand. Zara looked down at their intertwined fingers and continued.
“I believed that power came from visibility. From beauty. From attention and flash.” She gave a small, mirthless laugh. “I was taught that if people weren’t talking about you, envying you, wanting you - you didn’t exist.”
She looked up now, directly at Marisol.
“And Ayesha? She had it all. She was it all. Radiant, magnetic, confident. Everyone wanted her. Including me, in some weird way I couldn’t even understand back then. So I latched on and built her up - not realizing that is not who she was.”
Ayesha squeezed her hand tighter. “Zara didn’t force me,” she said softly. “I was just too stupid to realize that girl was not the one I wanted to be. And yet I did become that girl.”
“I brainwashed her,” Zara said plainly. “Made her think that guys like Bharath - poor with no car or no branded clothes - were beneath us. Not worth the time.”
Marisol’s lips parted slightly. “You think Bharath is poor? I guess that’s fair given how he dresses.” Sarah giggled.
“But why did you have to insult him to become popular? He had only been friendly to you?”
Ayesha looked like she’d been slapped. “That was Zara,” she said quickly, though her tone didn’t excuse it. “But I didn’t stop it. I let her speak for me. I let her define me.”
Zara nodded, tears rimming her eyes. “I said it just to be cruel. Like a vamp in a movie, tossing out one-liners to get a laugh. I didn’t even think twice. And then he walked away. And I saw his face. God, I wish I could change what I did so badly.”
Ayesha covered her mouth with one hand, shaking her head. “He came to talk to me again the next day. Maybe to ask what happened, or to just ... try again. And I let it happen again. This time it was me that cut him down. All for just saying hello and trying to connect with me as a person.”
Marisol’s voice was tight. “Why?”
Ayesha’s voice broke. “Because people were watching. I thought we were getting noticed. Every hallway we walked down, people stared. They talked to us. We thought they admired us for our bodies, our beauty and our energy. But it was just lust.”
She swallowed audibly before she continued. “Scratch the surface and there was nothing beyond it. And I chose it. I chose attention over authenticity. A pedestal made of smoke and mirrors.”
Zara exhaled shakily as she nodded along in agreement.
Ayesha turned to Sarah now, her expression raw. “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about that taxi ride with him. How he asked if I was nervous about coming to a new place. How he offered to carry my bag. How he made a joke, a stupid joke about airplanes, and laughed at himself first.”
She blinked hard. “I laughed at his stupid joke, Sarah. It was real. It was the last real thing I did this semester.”
The room was still.
Sarah looked down at her tea, then up again. “And when did that change?”
Zara answered, voice soft but sure. “The moment we saw what he epitomised. No - what you all epitomised. The way people started gravitating to you. Not because you were perfect, or polished. But because you were happy. You didn’t give a damn about whether you were seen or popular - and yet you were all so happy in each other’s company. That is what pulled us to you as well. To see someone have something we didn’t.”
Ayesha’s eyes were distant now, as if she were staring into something only she could see.
“We used to see you everyday in the dining hall,” she said slowly, voice low and steady. “When I saw you all sitting together - laughing, touching, teasing. Like you had your own language. Your own circle. Like the world didn’t matter because you had each other.”
She swallowed thickly.
“And I remember thinking - that’s it. That’s what everyone wants. Not power. Not fame. But to be wanted like that. Naturally. Completely. Not for a body. But because you really love and cherish each other.”
Zara nodded along solemnly.
A long silence followed.
Marisol’s throat bobbed.
Sarah tilted her head, the edge in her expression fading.
“I watched the way you touched him, Marisol,” Ayesha continued. “Just a brush of your fingers along his forearm. And the way he smiled back at you like it meant everything. I’ve had guys tell me I’m beautiful a thousand times. But no one has ever looked at me like that.”
Sarah’s voice was soft now. “And that made you walk away from everything?”
“No,” Ayesha said, shaking her head. “It made me see everything I was doing wrong.”
She turned to Zara and gave her hand a squeeze before facing the other two again.
“We were chasing a lie,” she said. “Chasing... noise.”
Zara nodded, her voice brittle. “We thought the fix was more ... more parties, more guys, louder stunts. We were idiots cranking up a broken stereo.”
Ayesha laughed hollowly. “God, the number of parties. The clubs. The frat houses. The handsy seniors.”
Marisol tensed. “What do you mean?”
Ayesha’s breath shuddered as she stared at the rug. “I mean ... I let men put their hands on me. Because they were popular or because everyone said they were somebody.”
Her jaw clenched. “If I pushed them away, I was a bitch. If I let them grope me and more, I was ... chill. Fun. The girl you invited back.”
Sarah flinched, her fingers curling white around her mug. Memories of her ex surged like an old wound. Marisol noticed instantly, sliding an arm around Sarah’s shoulders. She held her close, eyes never leaving Ayesha.
The silence hung heavy, all four women breathing in the weight of it.
Zara’s jaw tightened. “And I became known for flashing people. For being the wild girl who would make out with anyone if the lights were low enough. I started doing it on purpose. Because they wanted the sexy exhibitionist. The girl who would do anything on a dare for laughs and remembrance.”
Sarah and Marisol found themselves tearing up as though they could see it happening to themselves.
Ayesha’s voice was hollow now. “We became gossip and laugh tracks at the parties.”
“And no one loved us,” Zara whispered. “Not like you love Bharath. Not like he looks at you like you’re everything.”
Ayesha wiped under her eye with the back of her hand, smearing her mascara. “The sad thing is - I knew it. I knew none of it was real. Every time I looked in the mirror after one of those nights, I hated myself a little more. And the worst part was ... I still smiled. I still went back the next night. Just to not be forgotten.”
“Now, after seeing what true love and belonging looks like after seeing you, I’d rather be forgotten than be who I was again,” Zara murmured. “I’d rather be no one than be that someone.”
Sarah leaned forward now, the last traces of hostility melting from her face. “That’s ... a lot to carry.”
“We carried it for too long,” Ayesha said. “And we were too proud to put it down.”
Marisol whispered, “And now?”
Ayesha met her eyes with fierce vulnerability. “Now ... I want to be someone who deserves that kind of touch. That kind of glance. That kind of belonging. I want to be someone who walks into a room and doesn’t have to be loud to be loved. To have to sell my dignity for some cheap compliments that are worth nothing.”
Zara nodded beside her. “I want to earn my voice again. Not for shock value. But to speak something real.”
There was a silence after that - thick with emotion, unspoken acknowledgment, and the kind of honesty that only rises after something inside has broken.
But Ayesha wasn’t finished.
“There’s something else I need to say,” she murmured. Her voice had changed - lower now. Gritted. “Something that made me realize how far I’d fallen.”
She didn’t look at them when she continued. Her eyes stayed fixed on the rug beneath her feet, as if the memory was too sharp to face head-on.
“A few nights ago after we intruded on your sacred Tuesday,” she said slowly, “two frat boys showed up at our dorm. Just walked in like they owned the place. I had hooked up with one of them a month back. The other ... I didn’t even know.”
Zara’s hands tensed in her lap.
“They came in laughing, treating us like some sure things. Like we would fall down at their feet and kiss them for inviting us to become their whores for the night,” Ayesha went on. “They said there was a party and that we should come get drunk. That people missed us. Missed the show.”
Sarah leaned forward slightly, her knuckles white around her mug.
Ayesha’s jaw clenched. “I told them no. I... “ she stopped, swallowed hard. “I told them we weren’t doing that anymore. That I wasn’t that girl anymore. God, my voice shook so bad I thought they’d laugh me out of the room.”
Her breath caught. “And then they started laughing at me.”
Marisol’s voice was low. “What did they say?”
Ayesha blinked hard. “That I’d been ‘that girl’ so many times, who was I kidding? That they remembered every party, every outfit, every night I’d gotten too drunk to say no but hadn’t exactly said yes. That I was ‘fun’ once. That I used to know my place. That we both were pretending to be better than them instead of the sluts we were apparently supposed to be”.
Zara’s voice was a whisper of fury. “That’s when I slapped them.”
Sarah’s eyes widened.
Zara nodded. “Right across the mouth. The loud one first. I didn’t even think. I just moved. The second guy tried to grab my wrist, and I shoved him. Hard. Told them to get the hell out.”
Ayesha finally looked up, her voice cracking. “And they did.”
Zara gave a small, almost bewildered laugh. “It was the first time in my entire life I’d ever stood up for someone. Not for myself. Not for my reputation. For her. For something that mattered.”
She exhaled, eyes shimmering. “And it felt... good. For once, I was actually using my body for something more than decoration.”
Marisol stared at them both stunned. She wasn’t angry with them anymore.
Sarah’s voice was soft. “You fought back.”
Ayesha nodded. “We shut the door. We sat there shaking. And that’s when I knew ... I couldn’t go back. Not to that world. Not even for a second.”
Zara added, “It took that slap to realize how many years I’d gone without lifting a hand for anyone but myself. And how hollow that made me. Spying on you may have been wrong but without it we wouldn’t have known how broken we had become. How deranged our lives were. Watching you and love has saved our souls. We know it sounds strange - especially given how vapid and terrible we were - but seeing the purity of your love - especially the one between Bharath and you two has changed our lives.”
The room was quiet again. But this time, it wasn’t a silence of tension. It was a kind of mourning for the lives they were leaving behind and a hope for the people they were trying - desperately - to become.
Marisol let out a slow breath. “If that really happened - if you really turned them away like that...”
“It did,” Ayesha said. “We can give you their names. You can ask anyone in the dorm. We didn’t care what it cost. We meant it.”
Sarah looked at them both, her gaze unreadable, but there was no mistaking the shift. The softening. The cautious respect. She understood what these girls were saying. She was this girl before Marisol and Bharath had pulled her out of the abyss.
Sarah remembered with a shiver how she had been a toy, property a man that just wanted to use her for her body. She had been in the same situation as Ayesha and Zara. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the fortune of meeting Bharath and Marisol earlier. But now, she was healing. She would help heal these two broken women as well. No one deserved to spiral and become the Sarah who was mugged the other night. Not when they could be saved.
Sarah looked at Marisol. They didn’t need to speak out loud. Their eyes spoke volumes. They knew what needed to be done. These girls needed salvation. Just like Sarah had needed it.
Zara met her eyes. “We’re not looking for applause. We’re just ... trying to start.”
Marisol stood slowly and walked to the window, staring out at the night.
Then, without turning, she said, “Everyone makes mistakes. Most people lie about them. You two ... you’re owning yours. That’s rare.”
Sarah nodded beside her. “You still hurt people. Especially him.”
“We know,” Ayesha said quietly. “That’s the part that haunts us most. We don’t care about the shame or the rumors anymore. But him. What we did to him haunts us. We know we were pathetic.”
Zara added, “We know it’ll take more than one night to undo it. We just want the chance to try.”
Marisol finally turned around. “Then try. But know this...”
Both girls looked up.
“If you ever - ever - make him feel that small again, we won’t need frat boys to deal with you. We will.”
Zara and Ayesha nodded, solemn.
Sarah rose from the couch and walked over to them, her hand resting lightly on Ayesha’s shoulder.
“You did good tonight,” she said. “You didn’t fix everything. But you started something.”
Ayesha closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. And Zara, for once in her life, didn’t say something dramatic. She just whispered, “Thank you.”
Sarah crossed her arms again and leaned against the armrest, voice cool but firm. “That still doesn’t explain why you were spying on us at our home. We can understand the library and the dining hall. But why violate the sanctity of our home?”
Ayesha paled slightly, but it was Zara who answered.
“I started it,” she said quietly. She didn’t look proud. She didn’t look defensive. She just looked tired - like someone confessing to a crime they had already punished themselves for a hundred times over.
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
Zara inhaled through her nose, then released the breath slowly. “It was about ten days ago. Ayesha had gone to some party with me. She was spiraling that week. Drinking more with riskier crowds. She came back barely able to stand, crying about someone filming her dancing topless on a table. She didn’t even know why she did it. I knew about it and had taken care of the video and photos but she didn’t.”
Ayesha winced.
“I sat in the bathroom with her,” Zara went on. “I held her hair while she threw up. She kept saying she hated everyone and everything and ... herself. And I knew - I just knew - if something didn’t change soon, something awful was going to happen.”
Marisol and Sarah sat in silence, eyes fixed on her. Sarah gripped Marisol’s hand tightly.
“So I thought ... maybe there was someone who could reach her. Someone who she remembered as good. As safe. And the only name that came to mind was Bharath.”
Sarah blinked, surprised. Marisol’s brow furrowed.
“I thought about asking him to talk to her,” Zara continued. “Not as some romantic thing, but just ... to remind her of who she used to be. But every time I saw him, he was surrounded. You were with him. Your other friends. You guys were always laughing. It was like ... this golden little world and we were outside it.”
She swallowed.
“And I couldn’t step into it. I didn’t belong. Ayesha would’ve never listened if I just dragged her over. So we started following you. We couldn’t stop watching you guys. We wanted to understand why your world felt so different. Why he felt so different.”
Sarah opened her mouth, but Marisol held up a hand, eyes fixed on Zara. “Keep going.”
Zara glanced at Ayesha, who gave her a nod.
“At first it was just out of curiosity and a hope to speak to Bharath alone. Walking behind you on the way to the SAC. Sitting a few tables away at lunch. But then we both were touched by your aura - and it was addictive. We watched how you treated each other. You know ... just the little things that you probably don’t even realize. The way Ravi helped Nandita up the stairs even when she didn’t ask. The way Jorge carried Camila’s bag without making a show of it. The way Tyrel rubbed LaTasha’s back when she got angry sometimes. It wasn’t showy. It was just something you guys did.”
She looked down at her lap. “We’d never had that. Not even with our closest friends. We only knew how to perform for attention. And you... lived it.”
Sarah’s posture eased slightly, but her face remained unreadable.
“Then we saw you all walking across campus one morning,” Zara said. “We followed. And we kept doing it. Not with bad intentions. We just...”
“We wanted to feel it,” Ayesha whispered. “Secondhand.”
“You mean you stalked us,” Sarah muttered. “Because our group had good vibes?”
Zara flushed but nodded. “Yes. If you want to call it that.”
“Why didn’t you just talk to us?” Marisol asked, voice softer but still wary.
“Would you have listened?” Zara replied, her tone honest but without accusation. “After everything we’d said, everything we’d done? Would you have given us a fair chance?”
Marisol didn’t answer.
Zara looked up. “Then ... on Monday we saw Bharath walking alone. We thought that was our chance to talk to him alone. But then he headed off campus towards the MARTA station. I’m not going to lie, - but that intrigued us.”
She paused.
Ayesha visibly stiffened beside her. Her hand shot out and gripped Zara’s wrist. “Zara, wait -”
Zara turned, puzzled. “What?”
“Don’t,” Ayesha whispered. “We’re not supposed to talk about that ... he never told them, remember?”
Sarah and Marisol both sat up straighter.
Marisol’s eyes narrowed. “Told us what?”
Zara blinked. “What do you mean? I thought -”
Ayesha’s voice was tight. “They don’t know about her.”
And just like that, the room snapped to attention.
Marisol sat bolt upright. “What did you just say? Who is ... her?”
Zara turned white. “Wait - you don’t know about your sister?”
Sarah stood slowly. “Know what? Tell us everything. Start. From. The beginning.”
Ayesha glanced nervously at Zara, then at the girls in front of her. “Please - just - don’t get mad. We didn’t plan this and I swear we weren’t trying to be creepy on purpose. We didn’t even know who she was at first.”
Marisol’s jaw clenched. “Mia is my sister. You better choose your next words carefully.”
Zara held her hands up, voice shaking now. “We didn’t approach her. We didn’t talk to her. We just saw. That’s all.”
“Saw what?” Sarah snapped.
Ayesha’s voice was barely above a whisper. “That day near the MARTA station ... Bharath was alone. For once. So we followed. Just to see if we could talk to him without everyone around.”
Zara jumped in, trying to soften the blow. “He wasn’t doing anything shady. He just looked ... happy. He was relaxed ... he had this calm about him we hadn’t seen before.”
“We didn’t mean to follow him all the way,” Ayesha added quickly. “But then we saw Mia we just stayed there. She was so beautiful as she was pacing, nervous, like she was looking for someone. And when Bharath appeared, she just lit up.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes and Marisol’s posture straightened.
Ayesha’s cheeks flushed as she went on. “We recognized her. From the Diwali performance. She danced next to you two - Mia, right? That’s your sister, isn’t it?”
Marisol didn’t speak. She just nodded, slowly, warily.
Zara jumped in. “We thought it was sweet. Like, he came all the way to pick her up? Who does that? And then...”
She trailed off, unsure.
Sarah’s brows lifted. “Then what?”
Ayesha’s face turned pink. “Then ... she ran to him. Jumped into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.”
“And he caught her,” Zara added, voice lower now, breathless with memory. “Like full on grabbed her. She didn’t even care that he grabbed her in public. Anyone could have seen that she wasn’t even wearing ... you know.”
“And then...” Ayesha’s voice dropped to a whisper. “We were shocked when he kissed her as passionately as he does the two of you. Then he started saying things. We couldn’t hear all of it, but the way he held her, the way she melted in his arms -”
Zara leaned forward like confessing a crime. “She dragged him into a service alley near the station and then begged him to continue. She climbed on top of him like a jungle gym and made him suck on her neck and her huge breasts over her clothes. And she -”
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