Chapter 7: The Truth Can’t Hide Forever

The grad school application hadn’t gone through yet when something unexpected happened.

Today, the kitchen made steamed fish.

I used to love it.

The sharp tang of mustard oil and curry leaves hit me, and my stomach twisted. But today, for some reason, the fishy smell made me want to throw up.

Kabir picked up a piece and put it on my plate. Wanting to save face, I forced myself to eat it.

But as soon as the fish touched my mouth, I couldn’t help but gag.

Something felt wrong.

Suddenly, I realised it had been a month and a half since that night.

And in all that time, my usually punctual period hadn’t come.

My hand trembled on my fork. I looked up, and met Kabir’s eyes.

He was watching me intently.

"You threw up?"

His voice was low, almost gentle. I rushed to cover it up: "The fish is too smelly today."

He picked up a piece and tasted it himself: "I think it’s fine."

I lied, "Your sense of taste must be broken."

Kabir put down his fork, pulled out a tissue, and gently wiped the corner of my mouth.

"Is that so? My sense of taste is broken?"

His eyes held mine, unblinking. "I thought it was…"

"My little sister has morning sickness."

I dropped my fork. Kabir’s gaze pinned me to my seat. There was no more hiding—one of us would have to say it first.