It took a long time for Kiran to find sleep. The house felt too strange and silent, too alone, too unfamiliar.

  He y in bed for what felt like hours, eyes wide open in the dark, the ceiling fan spinning above offering no lulby. Sleep flirted with him—coming and going in wisps. Each time he dozed off,it seemed some phantom thought or feeling tugged him awake again. When sleep finally cimed him, it was light and shallow.

  A sudden, sharp buzz of the doorbell jolted him awake. He blinked, disoriented. The morning light spilled through the windows in a soft golden haze. He turned to look at the wall clock.

  Five minutes past seven.

  With a groggy sigh, he pulled his nightgown into pce and padded to the door, adjusting the soft cotton robe that had become his go-to comfort. He opened the door, squinting into the brightness.

  “Didi (a respectful term meaning elder sister) sleeping till so te today?” the cook said cheerily, stepping inside.

  “Didn’t sleep properly st night,” he murmured. “Just one of those nights.”

  The cook moved toward the kitchen. “What should I make today, Didi?”

  Kiran opened the fridge and frowned. The vegetable tray was nearly empty. He made a mental note to stop by the market in the evening.

  “Just make me an omelette,” he said. “And three chapatis(Indian ftbreads).

  “What about Bhaiya (affectionate title for elder brother)?" the cook asked, referring to Raj.

  “He’s not here,” Kiran replied. “Gone for a couple of days.”

  “Ohh,” she said with a knowing smile. “That’s why you couldn’t sleep st night, hmm? Missing Bhaiya?”

  Kiran narrowed his eyes. “Enough. Don’t talk so much. Just finish your work.”

  The cook chuckled. “I was just joking, Didi. No need to scold.”

  “Just get on with it,” Kiran muttered, rubbing his temples as he turned toward the bathroom.

  The hot water from the shower was a relief, washing away the grogginess from his limbs. By the time he stepped out—dressed in a fresh cotton gown, towel wrapped turban-style around his hair over his head—the smell of cooked food filled the kitchen.

  "Close the door behind you, when you go", he told the cook loudly from the bedroom.

  He moved to the wardrobe and pulled open the polished wooden doors. After some thought, he selected an elegant kurti—a long tunic—paired with a matching salwar (loose pants) and a light dupatta (scarf) to drape over his shoulder. He applied a minimal touch of makeup—just enough to look put-together. A stroke of kajal (eyeliner), a dash of lipstick, and a pair of stud earrings completed the look.

  He remembered Roshni’s comment that he looked like someone’s retired aunt.

  Not again, Kiran thought. He wasn’t going for gmorous, but he definitely didn’t want people asking, "What’s wrong, Kiran?" every time they looked at him.

  He picked up the handbag—now a familiar accessory—and headed out. The morning was warm but breezy. As he approached the bus stop, the driver beamed at him in recognition.

  He gave a polite nod and stepped inside, taking a window seat. Just as he settled in, his phone buzzed with a WhatsApp notification.

  It was Raj.

  Just nded. Kolkata airport.

  Kiran typed back a simple:

  Okay. Safe trip ahead.

  More notifications followed. This time, it was from Nimita. She had sent a flurry of photos from st night’s dinner outing—group selfies, shots of the food, and one couple photo of Kiran and Raj.

  Below the image was a sticker caption:

  "Beautiful Couple ??"

  Kiran stared at the picture.

  They did look good together.

  He quickly shook the thought off. Must be female Kiran’s memories, he told himself. Her emotions bleeding into mine. That’s all.

  He turned the screen off, shoved the phone back into his purse, and looked out the window. The city was coming alive—shops opening, rickshaws weaving between traffic, vendors shouting their morning deals.

  "New day, new start", he told himself.

  ---

  “Hi!” Roshni greeted, csping Kiran’s hands warmly in hers.

  She had spotted Kiran getting off the bus and rushed over after hurriedly parking her scooter. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her whole face seemed to glow.

  Kiran looked at her, puzzled. “Okay, what is it? What’s got you so worked up?” he asked with a ugh.

  “You won’t believe it,” Roshni decred, eyes dancing. “So I’m not even going to say it. I’m going to show you the surprise.”

  Kiran rolled his eyes, but his curiosity was undeniably piqued. “Fine,” he said, chuckling. “But if it turns out to be one of your weird obsessions again, I’m out.”

  Roshni didn’t reply—she just grabbed his hand and started dragging him along.

  “Where are you taking me?” Kiran ughed, trying to keep up.

  “Just shut up and come, girl. You won’t regret it. Trust me.”

  They walked across the college courtyard, past the staff room and the fountain that always gurgled zily in the mornings, until they reached the canteen. It was still early, and the pce wasn’t too crowded—just a few students here and there with their breakfast ptes and tea cups.

  Kiran looked around, confused. “You wanted idlis(steamed Indian rice cakes) this badly?” he teased. “Could’ve just said so.”

  “No, you idiot,” Roshni whispered, smacking his arm. “Beefcake. Look over there.”

  She pointed toward one of the corner tables.

  Kiran followed her gaze.

  There, sitting rexed and slightly slouched, was a man with a solid, muscur frame. The half-sleeves of his fitted shirt showed off powerful arms, and the way he leaned back gave off a casual confidence. His hair was neatly styled, his partly visible face clean-shaven. Handsome hunk, Kiran thought. Then, as if sensing their gaze, the man looked up and smiled.

  Kiran blinked.

  That smile. That face.

  It was... familiar.

  Where have I seen him before?

  And then, like a dam breaking, the memories flooded in.

  Of crowded lecture halls and bunked csses, of endless cups of chai and stolen samosas from the cafeteria, of three college kids ughing over silly jokes—Kiran, Roshni, and Sameer.

  Sameer.

  The st time Kiran—female Kiran—had seen Sameer was the day everything changed. Their st day at college. They had just received their results. Kiran had done well, and Sameer had insisted on treating her. Roshni had been busy with a career counseling session, so it was just the two of them, sitting at a café, grinning ear to ear over cold coffee and butter toast.

  They hadn’t known Kiran’s father was in the same café with a friend.

  That evening had been one of the worst in her memory. Her father had shouted, accused her of shameless behavior. When she argued back, he struck her. That day, something had broken in her retionship with her father—something that had never mended.

  And just like that, the carefree girl that Kiran had been, retreated. She had told Sameer what happened and begged him not to contact her again. Said it was better for everyone.

  And they had never spoken again.

  Until now.

  “Hey,” said Sameer’s familiar voice, pulling Kiran out of the swirl of memory. “How are you, Kiri? Long time.”

  Kiran managed a small smile. “I’m... good. Lecturer here now. What about you?”

  Before Sameer could respond, Roshni jumped in. “Oye, he’s the new Physics lecturer! Isn’t this, like, the surprise of the millennium?”

  Sameer ughed and shrugged. “I was looking for a job in this city after moving back. They needed someone experienced. Guess the stars aligned.”

  “Well,” Roshni said dramatically, “they aligned perfectly. But what happened to you, man? You turned into an Adonis! Were you trying for the movies?” She pyfully poked his arm.

  " Ha Ha, No" he replied smiling. “I just started going to the gym after our little trio broke up. It became an obsession." He added, ughing, “I wanted to show up someday and scare Kiran’s dad with my muscles.”

  Roshni burst out ughing. “Oh god, that would have been satisfying.”

  Kiran smiled. He couldn’t help it. There was something so familiar and comforting about this moment—Roshni’s ughter, Sameer’s jokes, the easy rhythm they once shared.

  But under the surface, something stirred.

  That breakup in friendship... it really hurt him, Kiran thought. There had been more emotion in Sameer’s voice than just old nostalgia.

  Was it more than friendship?

  The memories within—those of the female Kiran—were clear. No romantic attachment. Just deep, intense friendship.

  But what about Sameer?

  Before he could dwell too much, Roshni cpped her hands.

  “Well! Here’s to new beginnings,” she said brightly. She walked up to the counter, bought three bottles of co, and handed them out with a flourish.

  “Cheers!” she decred.

  It was their old ritual—one they used to do at every meeting, on every crazy day.

  Sameer raised his bottle. “To us.”

  Roshni clinked her bottle with his. “To reunion.”

  Kiran hesitated for a moment, then raised his bottle too.

  “To what comes next,” he said.

  ----------------------

  Kiran sat alone in the staffroom. It was the final college period of the day, and he had a free lecture. Sunlight snted zily through the high windows, casting long golden stripes across the floor. The distant hum of a cssroom filtered in, mingling with the steady ticking of the wall clock.

  He waited for Roshni to finish her css. Maybe Sameer would come along too.

  The memories borrowed from the other Kiran—her memories—had been flooding him throughout the day. Being around Sameer again had only intensified them. Despite the confusion and the emotional tangle they brought, lunch with Sameer and Roshni had felt... good. Familiar. Almost easy.

  With Roshni, there was a natural comfort, a steady connection. With Sameer? He wasn’t sure. It felt more complicated.

  During lunch, they'd caught up. Sameer had shared that he had married a couple of years ago—an arranged match. His wife worked at a bank and had just been transferred to this town st month.

  Roshni had done most of the talking for their side. There wasn’t much new to say about her—she remained the same free spirit she had been back in college. But she'd spoken of Kiran’s marriage to Raj four years ago, describing Raj as “a boring guy.”

  Kiran had chided Roshni who had chuckled.

  Not my marriage though, Kiran had thought silently, almost reminding himself, I just arrived in this world five days ago.

  Sameer had looked at him thoughtfully. “You’ve changed, Kiri. You’ve gone quiet.”

  Roshni had chuckled. “Nah, she can be funny when she wants to be. But tely, I’ve seen more frowns than smiles.”

  Kiran had rolled his eyes. “Oh, be quiet. It’s nothing like that. I just haven’t been feeling like myself tely.”

  Sameer had raised an eyebrow at that, clearly puzzled, but let it go. The rest of lunch passed in light conversation and ughter, but the strange undercurrent of dissonance lingered with Kiran.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the cng of the final bell. The corridors erupted in noise as students rushed out, books and bags bouncing on their shoulders, their chatter filling the air with youthful energy.

  A few minutes ter, Roshni and Sameer walked into the staffroom together.

  “I showed him the corners without CCTV,” Roshni announced with a grin. “In case he wants to sneak a smoke.”

  Kiran chuckled. “Nice. Now you both can relive your rebel days.”

  “You bet,” Roshni replied with a wink.

  Kiran gnced at the clock and stood up. “Come on now. My bus will leave without me.”

  “I can drop you, Kiri,” Sameer offered casually. “I’ve got my car.”

  Kiran shook his head quickly. “Nah, it’ll be a diversion for you. It’s okay.”

  Sameer didn’t push. Kiran gave them both a quick wave and jogged off toward the waiting college bus.

  His phone buzzed just as he took his seat. It was a message from Raj.

  "Missing you," it read, along with a picture of Raj holding a pte of puchkas—crispy, spicy street-side snacks.

  Kiran ughed out loud, startling a few students nearby. They turned to look at him. Embarrassed, he lowered his gaze.

  Damn you, tease, he thought. Those did look tempting.

  But then a wave of confusion hit him. Puchkas had never been his favorite… had they?

  Damn these memories, pying with my mind.

  Still, he gnced at the photo once more, a soft smile curling on his lips.

  He sent back a message, smiling as he typed it, "Stomach ache coming soon..."

  By the time he reached home, he'd picked up a few vegetables from a roadside vendor and was mentally pnning dinner. Once inside, he dropped the shopping bags, peeled off his work clothes, and headed straight to the shower.

  Steam curled around him, washing away the day’s confusion. But as he stepped out, towel wrapped hastily around him, and moved to the wardrobe, a sudden thought struck him.

  He was alone.

  Maybe… just for tonight—no bras, no fitted tops. No kurtis. Nothing feminine. Get back to feeling like a male for a while.

  He reached for one of Raj’s shirts. It was far too big. He dug deeper and found a smaller one—still loose, but wearable. He tried Raj’s jeans, but they slipped off his narrow waist. Finally, he settled on drawstring pyjamas, tying them tight.

  He turned to the mirror.

  A woman stared back—wearing men’s clothes. Her eyes were rge and tired, filled with curiosity and quiet discontent. The shirt hung awkwardly; her breasts moved freely underneath. The pyjamas were too wide.

  He sighed. These clothes felt uncomfortable.

  What’s the point? he thought bitterly. I might think I am a man inside, but outside… I’m all woman.

  He sighed.

  The phone rang.

  It was Raj.

  “Hey K,” he said warmly. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” Kiran replied, voice dull.

  “You sound tired.”

  “I am. Long day.”

  Raj didn’t push. “You know, the puchkas were terrific.”

  “Oh, were they? No stomach ache?” Kiran asked .

  “None at all. You’d have eaten at least twenty if you were here.”

  Kiran ughed. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Tomorrow, I’m having ka jamun and roshogols( Both are Bengali sweets).”

  “Damn you. My favorites,” Kiran groaned.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll eat enough for both of us,” Raj teased.

  “Grrr,” Kiran mock-growled.

  “Bring me my share as a parcel,” he said.

  “Right,” Raj said, ughing. “Imagine getting puchkas through airport security.”

  “Yeah… imagining,” Kiran replied, chuckling.

  Then Raj changed the subject.

  “How’s Priya? All set for the engagement?”

  Kiran froze. He hadn’t even called her. Guilt surged.

  “I was just about to,” he lied quickly.

  “Ask her if she wants anything from Kolkata,” Raj said with a yawn. “Well, enjoy your solitude. I’m grabbing dinner and crashing. Haven't had any sleep yesterday night too. Talk tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Goodnight.”

  Kiran ended the call and immediately dialed Priya.

  Her voice was sharp when she picked up. “Wow, look who remembered I exist. My Di (affectionate term for elder sister) hasn’t called me in two days!”

  “I’m sorry,” Kiran said. “College work’s been crazy. Are you all set?”

  “Not even close. I wanted to go to Central Mall today but couldn’t find the time.”

  “We’ll go tomorrow evening, okay? Come over here—it’s nearby. We’ll go together.”

  That perked her up. “Promise me you won’t ditch?”

  “Never,” he said firmly.

  After hanging up, Kiran returned to the bedroom and paused in front of the mirror. The woman in the reflection was smiling.

  He removed the oversized shirt and pyjamas, then slipped into a nightgown.

  Kiran’s nightgown.

  His nightgown.

  He looked at the mirror one st time.

  He was what he was.

  --------

  That's the end of Chapter 9. Do let me know your thoughts on the chapter. Comment freely.

  Thankyou

  ------------------------------------------

  Copyright Notice & Discimer

  > ? Moonmars15, 2025. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, pces, and events are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resembnce to real people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.