You and Arjun grew up side by side — same school, same bus stop, same detention slips. You were practically brothers. His mom, Meera, was the “nice mom” everyone liked. Always quiet, polite, and never one to gossip like other parents. You respected her. Everyone did.
Arjun’s dad had left when he was eight. You remember the day he told you — how he just shrugged and said, “Guess it’s just me and mom now.”
Over the years, you’d seen how much she did for him. Two jobs. Late nights. Never remarried. Just quietly surviving. Sometimes when you stayed over, you’d wake up to her sitting on the balcony with a cup of tea, staring at nothing. You’d feel sorry for her. She looked so… tired.
As you both grew older, she started looking less like someone’s mom and more like someone trapped between what she wanted and what life allowed her. The loneliness was there — plain and heavy — even if she smiled through it.
But you never ever thought about it in that way. She was your best friend’s mom. Off-limits. Out of the question.
Until tonight.
⸻
It’s late. You’re sitting in Arjun’s room. Lights dim, fan spinning lazily. Half-eaten pizza on the table, the TV paused on some random movie.
The door opens slightly. Meera steps in, carrying a tray with fruit and water.
Meera: “You boys didn’t have dinner properly. At least eat something before you sleep.”
Her voice is soft, like always. You thank her, smiling. She smiles back — briefly, but there’s something else in that look. Something you can’t quite read.
She leaves quietly, closing the door behind her. Silence. You turn to Arjun — who’s staring at the door like he’s debating something heavy.
You: “Bro, what’s up? You’ve been weird all night.”
He takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his hands.
Arjun: “I need to talk to you about something. Promise you’ll listen before reacting?”
You raise a brow. “What, did you kill someone?”
He doesn’t laugh. Not even a smirk. That’s when you know — whatever this is, it’s serious.
You: “Okay. Talk.”
Arjun: “It’s about my mom.”
You sigh. “Dude, if this is another one of your weird pranks—”
Arjun: “It’s not.”
He cuts you off. His tone’s low. Nervous.
Arjun: "She told me something… and I’ve been thinking about it for days.”
You’re confused. “Okay, what?”
He looks straight at you.
Arjun: "She likes you.”
You blink. “What?”
Arjun: “I mean she likes you. Not like a mom likes a son. Like—”
He gestures helplessly, searching for words.
Arjun: “Like a woman likes a man.”
You laugh. You actually laugh — until you see that he isn’t joking.
You: “You’re serious?”
He nods slowly.
You: “Bro, that’s insane.”
Arjun: “I know! But hear me out.”
He leans forward, voice low, almost whispering.
“She’s been lonely for years, man. Since dad left, she hasn’t been with anyone. No one gives a damn about her. But ever since you started coming around more — she’s different. Happier. She smiles again. She talks more. She actually cooks things she never used to.”
You just stare at him, trying to piece together what he’s saying.
You: “Okay, so what are you getting at?”
He swallows hard, eyes flicking up to meet yours. Then he says it — slow, careful, like he knows the words could explode the room.
Arjun: “I want you to make her happy.”
You: “What?”
Arjun: “I mean… you know… f-ck her.”
You freeze. The air feels heavy.