I am Ishrat.
After we returned from Manali, reality hit me hard. The excitement of the trip slowly faded, and I started feeling scared. We had been so reckless — no protection, so many times. Every night I would lie awake counting days, worrying if something had gone wrong inside my body. I knew I had to talk to Sadab.
One evening, when he came to my house for "studying," I closed the door of my room and spoke seriously.
"Sadu, listen," I said firmly, looking straight into his eyes. "What happened in Manali was okay because we were celebrating and got carried away. But from now on, we cannot do sex without a condom. It's too risky. I don't want to ruin our future or our studies. Promise me you'll use protection every single time."
He looked at me for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay, Ish. I understand. I'll be careful from now on. Sorry."
I felt relieved. But the very same moment, we heard my mother moving around in the kitchen, busy preparing dinner. Before I could say anything more, Sadab pulled me close, his hands already under my kurti. I tried to push him away gently and whisper "No… not now, and not without condom," but he was too quick and too eager. He didn't listen. Within seconds he had me against the wall, lifted my skirt, and fucked me right there — without a condom — while my mother was just a few rooms away. I bit my lip to stay quiet, my heart pounding with both fear and unwanted pleasure.
That became the pattern for the entire Class 12.
Even though I had scolded him and made him promise, Sadab rarely kept his word. Almost every day we found excuses to be alone — "group study," "project work," "extra classes." Sometimes at my house when my mom was busy or out, sometimes at his place when his parents were at work. More often than not, he would fuck me without using a condom. He seemed unable to control himself once we were behind closed doors. I would remind him again and again, but he would just smile, kiss me, and say "Just this once, Ish… I'll pull out" or "It feels better without." Most of the time he didn't pull out.
Class 12 became even more intense than Class 11. We were studying for the final board exams, the biggest ones yet, yet almost daily — sometimes even twice in a single day — he would take me. In my room, on the study table, on the floor, quickly in the bathroom… wherever we got even half an hour alone. I was tired, worried, and often sore, but I couldn't say no to him. A strange mix of love, fear of losing him, and the physical habit kept me going along with it.
We still managed to study hard and performed well in our internals and pre-boards. But behind the good student image, our secret life continued — risky, frequent, and mostly unprotected.
I kept telling myself that everything would be fine, that we were young and in love, and that nothing bad would happen. But every time I felt his warmth inside me again without any protection, a quiet fear grew deeper in my chest.
Still, I stayed with him, caught between the thrill of being wanted so badly and the growing anxiety about what might happen if our luck finally ran out.
Our Class 12 year passed like that — books by day, hidden passion by evening, and silent worries late at night.