The law becomes reality

Over the next few weeks, life at the flat stayed mostly the same — filled with girls’ evenings, messy buns, shared skincare routines, and long conversations that meandered into the night. Paru’s days were still full of lectures and labs, new friends and discoveries. But every once in a while, the same strange story would flicker across their screens.

The Freejizz law.

At first, it was easy to ignore. It sounded like a joke — some fringe nonsense that couldn’t possibly gain traction. But the news updates kept coming, quietly, steadily. Headlines on TV, stories online, interviews with suited men who insisted it was “symbolic performance” or “harmless tradition.”

Paru and the girls still laughed about it at first. What else could they do?

One night, they were sitting cross-legged in the living room again — Paru, Erin, Ayesha, and Lucy this time — eating takeaway curry and wearing clay face masks.

Erin scrolled her phone and groaned. “It passed committee stage.”

Paru looked up. “Seriously?”

“Yep. They’re calling it a ‘cultural gesture.’ Like some kind of weird bonding thing. Imagine that. Covered in goo in front of the supermarket and someone calls it a cultural gesture.”

Ayesha scoffed. “Next they’ll say we should thank them for the protein.”

Lucy leaned forward, frowning. “The mad thing is, no one’s actually fighting it. Like, where’s the outrage? Where are the protests?”

“There aren’t any,” Paru said quietly. “I keep waiting for someone to start one. But it’s just… silence.”

The room fell still for a moment.

It was ridiculous. It had to be. But slowly, absurdity was hardening into something more real.

A few days later, the final vote was scheduled.

They watched it on TV, almost in disbelief. The footage showed Parliament, nearly empty except for a few suited figures. The measure passed by a wide margin.

A scroll at the bottom of the screen read:

"THE FREEJIZZ LAW: TO BE IMPLEMENTED WITHIN 30 DAYS."

Paru stared at the screen, expression unreadable.

“This is actually happening,” she said at last, voice quiet. “Not one person stopped it.”

Erin looked at her, concerned. “How are you feeling about it?”

Paru paused. “I don’t know. Part of me still thinks it’s a prank. Like I’ll wake up and it’ll be satire again. But it’s not. And the weirdest thing is… no one seems to care."

Ayesha let out a bitter laugh. “That’s how things get through. People laugh, think it’s stupid — then it’s law.”

Paru ran a hand through her long hair. “I just… don’t get it. There’s no reason. No science. No meaning.”

“No respect,” Lucy muttered.

Paru nodded.

The law hadn’t even gone into effect yet, and still something felt different. The street no longer felt the same when she walked home alone. The groups of boys laughing near the bus stop didn’t make her feel neutral anymore. She caught herself glancing up when someone walked behind her — not with fear, exactly, but with a strange, unfamiliar readiness. Just in case.

And what stunned her most wasn’t the law itself. It was the silence.

She had come to the UK full of hope and curiosity — and she still loved being here. The science. Her friends. Her independence.

But this?

This was something she didn’t know how to name.