Anita's Misfortune

The events of this chapter pick up exactly where Chapter 1 left off. If you haven't read that one yet, I'd recommend starting there.

But this time, the story doesn't move forward. It looks back.

Because what stirred inside her today?

Wasn't new.

It started long before.

And tonight... she remembers.

I

It had been an hour since Ankita had come home and shut the door behind her--breathless, heart still thudding, voice catching in her throat as she blurted, "I have something to share. Urgently."

Now, sixty minutes and a hundred interruptions later, the truth lay between them--messy, intact, and unfiltered.

"Fuck

yaar

, Ankita. A lot happened." Zoya shifted in her seat again, crossing her legs tightly. She'd done that more than once during the story, Ankita had noticed. A subtle squirm. A shallow breath. But she hadn't commented. Not yet.

"It would've taken half the time if you hadn't said 'Fuck

yaar

, Ankita' every three minutes," Ankita muttered, amused, letting herself grin for the first time in an hour.

Zoya rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

"So... what now?"

"I don't know," Ankita said, more to herself than Zoya. "Now that the rush is gone, I feel... weird. Not bad. Just... weird."

She caught it--a flicker in Zoya's face. Concern? Disappointment? It disappeared too fast to name.

"Yeah! No! You don't have to figure it out right now. Don't worry about it."

Ankita nodded, but her thoughts were already folding in on themselves, stirring around something else entirely.

"

Chalo

, let's eat," Zoya offered, with a forced brightness. "No point starving our stomachs over this, right?"

They made their way to the dining table. The food was warm, but the silence between them grew cooler. Zoya tried again.

"And anyway, it's not like this happens every day, right? I mean--this was the first time you were ever exposed, and in front of boys. You're at the starting line, babe. You get to choose whether to run, crawl, or sit pretty."

Ankita stared at her plate. Her spoon grazed the food without meaning to. Zoya probably thought she was spiralling about today--but that wasn't it. The heaviness in her chest wasn't from the day's events. Not entirely.

A memory was beginning to tug at her. Not sharp, not yet--it moved like something underwater, just out of reach. She hadn't told Zoya because she didn't fully remember it herself. Not the whole of it. And more than that, she wasn't sure what she wanted from it--what it meant to her, what it was asking her to feel.

It wasn't about today.

Not anymore.

Zoya didn't press. She probably thought Ankita was spent. Maybe Ankita thought so too.

After dinner, they retired to their rooms, but sleep was the last thing on Ankita's mind.

She tossed for hours, the half-formed image replaying over and over--until her body jolted awake, breath caught in her throat.

2:30 AM.

The memory had arrived fully now, vivid and insistent. Not as a flash, but as a knowing. It wasn't shame that made her restless--it was the need to understand. To bring the memory into the light and name what it had meant to her, then--and what it meant now.

There was no waiting.

Throwing off her blanket, she padded barefoot to Zoya's room.

"Zoya!" She knocked. No response. She knocked again. "Please don't be asleep! Zoya! Wake up!"

"Calm down, psycho. I was watching a movie. Will you let me pause it or not?"

"Not important," Ankita declared, stepping into the room.

The familiar scent of vanilla and coffee instantly calmed her. The room was dimly lit, a warm glow coming from the table lamps and the scented candles lined along the windowsill.

She turned to see Zoya settling back onto her bed. Both of them were dressed for comfort--Zoya in her usual long boyfriend t-shirt that just skimmed her mid-thighs. Ankita assumed that was all she had on. Likewise, Ankita wore her regular threadbare t-shirt and boxer shorts,

sans undies

.

Zoya closed her laptop and arched an eyebrow.

"Oh! Yes! I need to tell you something!" Ankita burst out, realising it sounded identical to what she'd said earlier.

Zoya stared at her. The expression was incredulous, her silent stare practically screaming:

How could you have exposed yourself again?

"Not

right now

, stupid," Ankita shot back at the unspoken accusation.

Still, Zoya didn't speak--just waited.

"Remember how I was quiet during dinner?"

Zoya nodded slowly.

"I figured it out. You said something earlier... about how this was my first time. But it wasn't. Not really."

Zoya sat up straighter. "Go on."

"Last year. Eashan and Chirag."

Zoya blinked. Her posture stiffened.

"The boys you tutored?"

"Yeah. During semester end exams. I think..." Ankita paused. "I think I kind of let it happen."

Zoya folded her arms. "Uh huh. And I told you those boys were sketchy."

Ankita gave a tired laugh. "They didn't do anything, really. It was me. Sort of. It's complicated."

"Well," Zoya said, already shifting into her usual tone of challenge, "I'll decide how complicated it is. Start from the beginning."

"Now?"

Zoya's lips curled. "What? You got someone else to flash at 3 AM?"

Ankita let out a dramatic gasp and slapped her arm. "You're insufferable."

"Yup," Zoya said smugly. "Now talk."

Ankita sat down beside her, the candlelight catching the shadows under her eyes. She took a breath.

"Okay. Let me try."

II

I think it was March. Or maybe April. I'm not sure anymore. I remember is that summer had started to creep in, and we were in the middle of our semester exams.

Chirag was an old friend from school. We'd drifted into different academic streams after graduation, but a couple of subjects still overlapped. One year, he asked me to help him prep for maths and German. I said yes, and he came over--with his friend Eashan. It started casually, and like most rituals, before every exam, they would show up at my place to study. It just... became a thing.

That day they were supposed to arrive at 2:30 in the afternoon. It was just past 12:30, so I hopped into the shower, thinking I had enough time to get a nice refreshing cold shower.

Then my phone rang.

Peeking out from behind the curtain, I saw Chirag's name flash across the screen. I ignored the call. He called again. This time, I answered, still wet, still mid-rinse, setting it to speaker with damp fingers.

"Ankita, yaar! Where are you? Open the door!" Chirag barked. No greeting, no pause

"What? Why do you sound so irritated?"

"We're outside! Open up!"

"You're

what

?" I exclaimed. "Chirag, we agreed on 2:30! It's not even 1."

"It was 12:30, not 2:30!" Chirag paused then said, "And listen--now that we're here, are you seriously going to keep us waiting outside till 2:30?"

"No, I don't mean it like that--"

"Then let us in. Or are you saying you're not home?"

"Aye! Calm down!" Eashan cut in from behind. I heard some fumbling, then his voice came through the speaker. "Ankita, it's Eashan. Are you home?" he asked, much calmer.

I sighed, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation. "Yes, I am," I admitted. "But I can't open the door right now. I just hopped in the shower. I really thought you guys would be here by 2:30."

"How long will you take?"

Before I could reply, I heard Chirag in the background, asking what I'd said. Eashan repeated that I was in the shower, and then--

God help me

--they started speculating on how long my bath might take.

"Okay, you know what?" I cut in sharply, "I'm already rinsing off. Give me five... seven minutes, max. The spare key's above the doorframe. Let yourselves in--I'll stay on the call till you find it."

I turned off the shower, straining to hear if they had found the key. A moment later, Eashan spoke, "Alright. We're in."

"Okay, just wait five minutes. I'll be out."

"Good. Just five minutes."

I turned the water back on. Rinsed quickly. Dried off. Wrapped myself in a towel--tucked it firmly above my breasts. Let's be generous and say it took ten minutes altogether. Still, I felt rushed, exposed, flustered in a way that annoyed me.

I checked my reflection one last time before stepping out. Everything was covered property and tucked in neatly.

Thank God I did.

Because the second I walked into my room, I froze.

Chirag and Eashan were on my bed. Sitting casually. And staring at me--eyes wide, jaws slightly parted, caught somewhere between horror and disbelief.

I gasped, clutching the knot of my towel instinctively. "What the hell are you doing in my room?"

Chirag stammered, but Eashan beat him to it. "Shit, we're sorry! We always study in this room--we didn't think."

"Get out. I need to get dressed."

Eashan hesitated. "But... where do we go? Your living room has nothing but cardboard boxes. We can't sit in your roommate's room--we don't even know her name yet."

Looking back, that should have been my first red flag. That excuse made no sense.

But at that moment, standing there nearly naked in the same room as them, I didn't have time to argue. I had to act.

In two quick strides, I dashed to my wardrobe. In one swift motion, I grabbed a top and then my sweatpants with another, making sure to keep my towel securely in place.

"Stay here! I'll be back." I said, as I bolted back into the bathroom.

**

I had royally fucked up.

The moment I re-entered the bathroom, I realised what I had done, rather what I had done wrong. Now, mind you, I didn't panic because I was missing my bra and panties. I knew I hadn't brought them. I had figured it was better not to wear them at all than to have them dangling out in the open, right in front of the boys. So, in that sense, it wasn't mission-critical. Sure, I had never been around the boys braless before, nor had I ever planned to be, but then again adrenaline overrode analysis.

Back to my actual panic.

Standing there, I realised my mistake. What I thought was a loose, comfy T-shirt turned out to be one of my T-back tanks--the kind I wear for home workouts. Not only would it fail to hide the fact that I was braless, but it was also shorter, tighter, and doing the exact opposite of what I needed. I had two choices: go back out and grab another top or just go with the one in my hand. But walking out there in my towel again? Not happening.

So, I put on the T-back, checked myself in the mirror, and--yep, it was obvious. Anyone could tell I wasn't wearing a bra. I pulled on my sweatpants and tied them tightly around my waist, as if that would somehow make a difference. And the worst part? I actually convinced myself that maybe--just

maybe

--the boys wouldn't notice... and that I could somehow focus on studying despite it.

The second I stepped back into my bedroom, their expressions told me everything. They had noticed.

Still, we studied. Hours passed as we covered the basics, though I don't remember much of it. Finally, it was over.

"Thanks for today, Ankita," the boys said as they got up to leave. "You've helped us more than you can imagine. Same time tomorrow? With all the afternoon glow and all."

I giggled at the 'joke' like an idiot.

"You won't need the spare key tomorrow. I'll be ready for you boys," I said--

actually

said.

As soon as they left, I hurried to put on my underwear, as if that somehow made up for everything. But once I had them back on, I realised I was already in my gym attire--so I figured I might as well squeeze in a quick workout before revising for my exam.

I had just started my stretches and warm-up when you walked in.

III

Zoya started slapping Ankita's hands and legs, laughing as she cut in with a story of her own--one that made Ankita sit up straighter without even meaning to. There was something about the way Zoya said it, casually but with a glint in her eye, that made Ankita instinctively brace herself.

"I was in the parking lot," Zoya began, her voice low and deliberate, "and I happened to overhear two boys talking."

Ankita frowned, but Zoya held up a finger like she was still getting to the good part.

"At first, I didn't know they were talking about you. No names. Just... details." A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Now, of course, I can connect the dots."

She smirked. "They were raving about your 'tight ass.' That's the first thing I heard--which, obviously, made me eavesdrop."

Ankita groaned and hid her blushing face behind her hands, trying to piece together how the boys would have even noticed. But she didn't have long to dwell on it before Zoya continued.

"I don't remember everything word for word," she said, counting on her fingers now, "but they were pretty pleased about the mix-up. Something about how they accidentally came early--and how lucky that turned out to be."

She paused just long enough to let that land.

"So technically," she added with a grin, "it wasn't you who messed up the timing. It was them."

She tapped her middle finger with her thumb, eyes squinting like she was scanning through memory. "What was it they said? Oh, right! They loved your t-shirt. And your apparent distaste for bras."

Ankita let out a strangled whimper and buried her face deeper.

"And I mean loved. The taller one who was complimenting your ass was already strategizing how they could get another peek at your breasts the next day. The shorter one joked about praying to the gods that you'd go braless again. And then, as they got on their bikes, they had started plotting ways to get you out of a bra... you know,

if

you happened to be wearing one."

Ankita's blush deepened.

Zoya's voice softened. "I freaked out a bit after that. I thought maybe--God, what if they were talking about my roommate?"

"But when I entered the flat," she continued, "you were in full gym attire--sports bra and everything--so I assumed they must've been talking about someone else."

"Yes!" Ankita exclaimed. "I remember you asking if that was what I wore when my friends came over. And because I was way too embarrassed to explain everything, I just said yes."

"Exactly! And since I wasn't sure whether those boys were the same ones I overheard, I still told you to be cautious and..." Zoya started.

"...wear something loose the next day," they both finished together, dissolving into laughter.

Zoya let out a breath. "I don't know why, but I'm weirdly relieved they only saw your boobs through a t-shirt. I mean, yeah, it was tight as hell, but it still feels like... a narrow escape."

Ankita's lips curled into a knowing smile, unable to hide the thrill of what she was about to say next. She placed a hand on Zoya's shoulder, gave her a dramatic look, and declared--

"The story's not over yet."

IV

The next day, Chirag and Eashan changed their plan. Instead of heading straight to our place, they came to pick me up from college. I think they were a little disappointed to see my scooter with me.

Looking back now, I'm not sure if missing out on riding triple-seat with them was a mistake on my part. Imagine it--me, sandwiched between two boys, riding through the city.

Hot, isn't it?

But alas, I had my own wheels, so they followed me back, two shadows on roaring bikes. Anyway, after about twenty minutes of battling the burning afternoon heat, we finally escaped into the cool comfort of the apartment.

"Woah! Where was this yesterday?" Chirag asked, eyeing the brand-new four-chair dining table in the living room.

"Remember those boxes lying around? That's them! The IKEA guys came and assembled it this morning."

Like any self-respecting Indian boy, he went straight to test it. He pulled out a chair, leaned his weight onto the edge of the table, gave it a good shake. It passed his scrutiny. He nodded, as if approving a groom.

"Well, it holds my weight," he said.

I remembered your warning--about being careful. So I suggested we sit at the dining table instead of retreating to my room. Safer. More... neutral.

Oddly, the boys seemed almost too happy about the idea. They helped unpack the books, set up their notebooks, even wiped the surface with an old rag like it was a sacred ritual.

Soon, just as the boys were beginning to confuse themselves over simple trigonometry, I realised the heat was rising by the hour. Without thinking, I had begun fanning myself with last year's exam papers when Eashan, careful with his tone, looked up and said, "Ankita, why are you wearing a sweatshirt in this heat? Just looking at you makes us feel hotter. Aren't you dying in that thing?"

I looked down, tugging at the hem of my sweatshirt. "Oh shit! I completely forgot." I hadn't even realised I still had it on. Quickly, I got up to pull it off--

That reminds me, I never told you what I was wearing that day. Underneath the baggy sweatshirt, I had on a cricket jersey, and for bottoms, my figure-hugging blue jeans. You know the ones--the unforgiving ones that turn heads as I walk by. Honestly, I had been in such a rush that morning that I just threw on the first pair of jeans I could find. It was only when I buttoned them up that I realised which ones they were. And in the mirror? My ass looked like it was demanding attention.

I was already running late, so changing again wasn't an option. Which is also why I grabbed the sweatshirt--to cover up just enough of those jeans so they wouldn't be quite so...

revealing

.

Anyway, there I was at home, battling the heat when, out of nowhere, Eashan pointed out that I was still wearing a sweatshirt. And in the heat and the stuffiness, without thinking twice, I reached for the hem and tugged at it."

Ankita couldn't have paused for more than a second to catch her breath--just enough time for Zoya to gasp loudly.

"Ankita! Don't tell me--you weren't wearing a bra?"

"Woman! Do you want to hear the story or tell it yourself?"

"Sorry, sorry," Zoya grinned. "But seriously?"

Ankita exhaled loudly. "I was running late, and I already had the sweatshirt at hand, so I figured--wait a minute,

I

am telling the story."

Once again, Zoya threw up her hands in surrender.

"As I was saying," Ankita continued, "I started pulling the sweatshirt up, and if my memory serves me right, the moment it reached the bottom of my breasts, I felt a cool breeze against my stomach. In that heat, it was so comforting that it didn't even register what it actually meant."

As I lifted the sweatshirt higher, the jersey underneath--stuck to it--peeled away as well, inching upwards. Slowly, it must have revealed the faint lines of my upper abs. I can only imagine what that sight must have been like for the boys. I remember tugging the sweatshirt over my breasts, pulling it up to my neck. The jersey followed, now resting just above the underside of my breasts. I

should

have realised. It should have been obvious. I don't understand how I hadn't realised it back then, because now, just the memory sends goosebumps across my skin--as if I'm being exposed all over again.

Shit

. If only I could have seen their faces as they looked at me, standing there, unknowingly baring so much of myself. The cool breeze brushed against the underside of my breasts, and in that moment, I think the boys

knew

--that I wasn't wearing a bra.

I

did

see their faces, though. Eventually.

I twisted my arms over my head and around the sweatshirt, pulling it off completely. My shoulders came free as the sweatshirt finally slipped away, taking the jersey along with it. I let the bundle drop to the floor near my feet, exhaling at the relief of finally feeling cool. I was about to comment on how much better I felt, how refreshing it was--thank

God

I didn't.