Chapter 4: The Eldest Sister

Kavya has always been the responsible one. The good daughter. The one who never gave our parents a moment’s worry. She studied hard, dressed modestly, spoke softly, and accepted the burden of being the eldest with a grace that bordered on martyrdom.

She also, I had begun to realize, was desperately lonely.

I saw it now with new eyes the way she watched our parents when she thought no one was looking, her expression a mixture of longing and resignation. The way she touched her own neck when she was nervous, her fingers tracing the pulse point as if seeking comfort. The way she had never had a serious boyfriend, despite being twenty-three and beautiful, despite the men who pursued her with obvious intent.

She was afraid. That was what I understood now. She was afraid of her own desire, afraid of what it might unleash if she let herself feel it.

The twins had told me her secret. Kavya had come to them last year, confused and crying, confessing that she had feelings she could not name, desires that terrified her. She had kissed a girl in university, had liked it too much, had run back to the safety of tradition and denial. She had been celibate ever since, pouring her energy into her studies and her teaching, trying to burn away the hunger with work.

“She needs someone to break her open,” Neera had said, her eyes gleaming. “She needs to be forced past her own inhibitions. And you, brother, are the only one who can do it without destroying her.”

I did not fully understand what she meant until the opportunity presented itself three days after my initiation with the twins.

It was a Friday evening. Our parents were out at another business function. Ananya and Ishani were in their rooms, studying. The twins had gone back to their city apartment after extracting a promise from me that I would begin my seduction of Kavya that very night.

I found my eldest sister in the library, as I knew I would. She had a habit of reading late into the night, losing herself in Victorian novels where virtue was rewarded and passion was always properly channelled into marriage.

She was wearing a white cotton salwar kameez, her hair loose around her shoulders, her feet tucked beneath her on the window seat. She looked up when I entered, her expression softening into affection.

“Arjun. I didn’t hear you come in. Is everything alright?”

“Everything is perfect,” I said, closing the door behind me and turning the lock. The click made her eyebrows rise, but she did not comment on it.

“I wanted to talk to you,” I continued, moving closer. “About something important.”

“Of course. Sit.” She gestured to the space beside her on the window seat.

I did not sit. I stood before her, looking down at her upturned face, and felt a surge of the same possessiveness I had seen in my father’s expression that day weeks ago. I wanted to own her. I wanted to break her open and remake her in my image.

“I know about the girl,” I said softly.

Kavya’s face went pale. She gripped the book in her lap so tightly her knuckles turned white. “What what girl? I don’t know what you mean”

“Don’t lie to me, Kavya.” I reached out and took the book from her hands, setting it aside. “I know about the kiss. I know about your fears. I know that you want things you think are wrong, and that you’ve been punishing yourself for years because of it.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks. “How how could you know that? Who told you? The twins? Oh god, they promised”

“They told me because they love you,” I said, cupping her face in my hands, wiping her tears with my thumbs. “And because they knew I could help you. That I could give you what you need.”