Piles

Sunday mornings in the Patel household had a rhythm all their own. Quiet, warm, and scented with turmeric, chai, and the occasional song hummed through closed doors. Normally, Indira found comfort in that. A sacred kind of comfort. Family day.

But not today.

Today, it all felt… off.

She sat on the edge of her bed in her tank top and pajama shorts, legs pulled up close, staring at two piles of clothes.

Old Indira on the left.

New Indira on the right.

The difference was stark. One stack was all soft knits, high necklines, cardigans, and jeans that could never be called skinny. The other? Glossy textures. Cropped cuts. Pieces that hugged, revealed, whispered suggestions instead of guarding secrets.

She eyed the outfit Madison had picked for her. A ruched lavender crop top—tight, sleeveless, with a plunging neckline and delicate spaghetti straps that made her collarbones look like art. Beneath it, a pleated white skirt that flared just enough to tease, fluttery and short enough to show off the tops of her thighs if she moved wrong—or maybe right. Playful. Sexy. Bold. Too much?

She held the top to her chest and turned toward her mirror.

Madison had said it was the perfect color for her skin tone. "It makes your brown glow, babe," she'd purred, looping the hanger over Indira's forearm. "Joey's not gonna know what hit him."

Indira bit her lip and looked again. Madison had been right.

This wasn't just a cute outfit. It was strategy.

Joey.

She exhaled slowly, remembering the ache in her chest when she left last night. The moment she'd seen him guide Juniper upstairs—his hand gentle on her back, his voice low and kind. Indira could have gone. Could have asked to come. But she hadn't.

She'd let herself be left behind.

But not anymore. Last night was for the Old Indira pile.

Today, she was done with Old Indira.

She tugged off her tank top and reached for the underwear she'd already picked out—lacey lavender panties with matching bra, delicate and feminine, barely-there sheer along the sides. Donna had insisted she get a few "foundational pieces," saying every girl needed to start with good underwear. That "the right bra can change your whole world, sweetheart."

At the time, Indira had giggled, covering her face with her hands. But now? Now she saw the logic. The wisdom, even.

What if she ran into Joey today? What if things escalated? What if she wanted them to?

The thought made her knees press together.

That was new. The physical part. Until now, her love for Joey had been emotional, spiritual. Intense, but innocent.

But the way Bianca looked at him… the way Aynsley touched him... the way Donna kissed him, like it was her birthright—it was making something bloom inside Indira. A hot, fizzy curiosity.

They all loved him. And they were physical. So why not her?

She dressed slowly, reverently. Each layer brought her closer to who she was becoming. Bra. Panties. The shimmering lavender top, pulled down snug. The white skirt, zipped up. She added silver hoops. Mascara. Lip gloss.

Then she looked at herself.

Hot.

She was hot.

She'd never thought it before. In fact, she'd always shrunk away from that idea. But it was true now. She could see it. And not just see it—believe it. Own it. It was what Aynsley would say, grinning with smug sisterhood: '"You're a total snack, girl. Stop pretending you're not."

Indira gave her reflection a nod. Yeah. A snack.

From the other room, she could hear her mother humming some old song, kitchen utensils clinking as breakfast began. Her heart tugged. She loved Sundays. The cooking, the slow pace, the comfort of family. She always had.

But she had something else now. A new center of gravity. A new orbit.

Joey Granger.

She walked to the window and peeked through the curtains. It was still early. If she timed it right, she could slip out without anyone noticing. She could be back before lunch, maybe even get changed into an Old Indira outfit to avoid questions.

It wouldn't take long. She just needed to see him. To be seen by him. To stop feeling like the only one left behind.

Last night had been a waste. Today wouldn't be. She grabbed her phone, typed out a quick message to Madison:

How'd the rest of the party go? I'm heading to Joey's. Think he's still there? I've got a surprise for him.

She added a winking emoji and hit send.

Then, as a second thought, she took a selfie and sent that too.

Then she reached for her flats, slid them on, and moved quietly toward the door.

No hesitation. No second guessing.

She was one of the girls.

She was on the same side.

And today? She was going to make sure Joey knew it.