You stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath as you stared at the sprawling home in front of you. The driveway was crowded with cars, and faint laughter and music drifted through the open doors. You adjusted your kurta and smoothed your hair, feeling the weight of the occasion sink in. This wasn’t just any event—it was Justin’s sister’s mehndi, and the entire Patel family would be there.

Justin had been your tutor back in private school in Chicago. What started as study sessions quickly turned into late-night conversations, and before you knew it, he had become your best friend. He was 6’5”, buff, and exuded a quiet strength that made your teenage self develop a massive crush on him. But you never acted on it.

A few months ago, everything changed. He admitted that he was starting to fall for your personality as it developed to a relationship. Justin couldn’t come out as his family was a different story—conservative, old-school, and deeply rooted in cultural norms.

The house was bustling as you stepped inside. Relatives swarmed the living room, chatting and laughing over the music. The aroma of freshly fried samosas and chai wafted through the air. You nodded politely to a few people but made a beeline for Justin’s room, weaving through the crowd. You needed a moment of calm, and Justin was always your anchor in chaos.

When you reached his door, you knocked lightly and then pushed it open. Inside, Justin was lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He was wearing nothing but black kurta pants and his watch, his toned chest on full display. The soft glow of the bedside lamp highlighted his sharp jawline and messy hair. He looked up as you entered, his lips curving into a warm, lazy smile.

“Hey, hun,” he said, setting his phone down. “Glad you could make it.”

You closed the door behind you, and for a moment, the noise from the house outside faded away. It was just you and him, in the quiet bubble of his room.