Chapter 3: Bonds Old and New

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Arjun is my roommate—and, truthfully, the closest thing I have to a best friend.

I have a secret crush on him, but that’s just between me and my pillow.

Unfortunately, Arjun is straight. Like, proper ‘I’m-only-into-girls’ straight.

Arjun’s family is pretty well-off. His dad owns a chain of petrol pumps, and their bungalow in Vasant Kunj is the kind you see in magazine spreads.

When I was seven, my dad worked as a driver for the Singh family. No mum in the picture—she passed when I was small—so my dad, busy and a bit lost, would take me along whenever he could.

Classmates would whisper, “Arey, rich boys are all spoilt, yaar. He’ll treat you like a toy, bully you every day.” They’d scare me with stories of entitled brats, as if Arjun was some villain from a Bollywood film.

But when I actually met Arjun, he didn’t have any airs. He wasn’t stuck-up, didn’t talk down to me. The first time we met, he squinted at me and said, “You look like a doll, you know?” I almost laughed, but was too shy.

I was a frail, sickly kid—small for my age, always sniffling. Arjun, the golden boy, would kneel on the chilly floor, tugging thick monkey-cap socks onto my feet, muttering about Delhi winters. He’d pack my schoolbag and walk with me to school, his backpack slung over one shoulder, mine on the other.

Whenever I was down with fever, he’d sit by my side, holding my hand, reading comics aloud, or just quietly watching over me while my dad ran errands. His mother would peek in sometimes and say, “Arjun beta, take care of Kabir, haan?” He always did.

In high school, he accidentally discovered my secret—I’m intersex—while I was in the bathroom. I panicked, begged him to never say a word. “Please, Arjun, I’ll do anything. Just… don’t tell anyone.”

But Arjun never even hesitated. “Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell a soul, promise.” Not even a hint of disgust or curiosity. Just quiet loyalty.

He’s known to be cold, not much of a talker—people say he’s hard to approach. But with me, he’s always gentle, like I’m something precious.

Our other roommates tease him all the time: “Arrey Arjun, you treat Kabir like a wife! When are we getting your wedding sweets?”

But I know Arjun is straight. Especially after he beat up that guy who tried harassing him at the bus stop. He was so furious, he didn’t even look back.

I know Arjun only sees me as his closest friend. Nothing more. If I let myself hope, I’ll lose even this. Better to keep my feelings locked away, like old love letters in a biscuit tin.