{NOTE: Images and links are used only as the reference to the character in the story}
This section is longer than usual, but it's crucial for understanding the depth of Rohit's character and his motivations. It explores his heartfelt reasons behind his decision to grow his hair long.

The rain continued to patter against the windows, a soft rhythm that filled the room with a sense of calm. Neha watched Rohit, her curiosity and admiration growing with each passing moment. As he settled into the chair, his long hair flowing freely around him, there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. This wasn't just a teacher-student interaction anymore; it was the beginning of something deeper.

Rohit took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "You know, Neha," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "there's a reason behind why I grew my hair this long. It's not just a style choice or a personal preference. It's a story that goes beyond the surface, one that's deeply personal to me."

Neha leaned in, her eyes fixed on him, ready to hear the story that had remained untold for so long. Rohit continued his fingers gently playing with the ends of his hair, a gesture that seemed almost second nature to him.
"And today, for the first time, I feel ready to share it."

It all began when I was 17, studying in the 12th standard. I lived with my mom, Anita, and my elder sister, Shruti, who was 1.5 years older than me. Our dad had died in an accident when I was 10, leaving Mom to support the family by working as a chef at a local restaurant. Both Shruti and I inherited Mom's striking looks, especially me, since I couldn't grow any facial hair. This androgynous appearance made me the target of frequent teasing. Despite that, I had always been a mischievous and active kid, often playing pranks and being the life of our small family.
Shruti, on the other hand, was the diligent and disciplined one. She spent countless hours studying, and I often teased her for it. But secretly, I admired her dedication. One evening, our sibling rivalry took a significant turn.

"WHAT? HOW DID YOU DO THAT?" I shouted, staring at Shruti's marks in disbelief.

"I never saw you study," I added, astonished.

"Stupid, I studied at the library because you never let me study at home," Shruti smirked, clearly enjoying my shock.

"Yeah, right. You must've bribed the librarian to do your assignments," I retorted, trying to cover up my growing sense of dread.

"We'll see about that," she said with a confident grin. "You remember our bet, don't you?"

My stomach churned. I had made a bet with Shruti: if she scored above 90%, I would accept any request she made. If she didn't, she would have to cut her long, beloved hair to shoulder length.

"Of course, I remember," I replied, trying to sound confident. "So, what do you want?"

She looked at me thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You wanted me to cut my hair, right? Then you grow yours long."

I blinked, taken aback. "Just grow my hair?" I repeated, thinking it sounded easy. Long hair was trendy among boys these days.
"But," Shruti continued with a sly smile, "it will be all according to my preferences. I will have complete control over your hairstyle, length, and everything."

My expression changed instantly. "What are you afraid of?" she teased. "Didn't you say during the bet, 'It's just hair, it will grow!'?"

Summoning my courage, I declared, "Boys don't back down from a challenge. I accept your request." We shook hands on the deal.

"Great! This is going to be fun," Shruti said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'll make sure you look fabulous."

I tried to shrug it off, but my mind was racing. "How will she trouble me?" I wondered aloud, anxiety gnawing at me.

"Don't worry, little brother," she said, patting my shoulder. "You'll look great. Just trust me."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered. "You don't have to walk around with hair like a girl's."

Shruti laughed. "Oh, come on, Rohit. It's just hair. Besides, you'll get to experience what it's like for us girls."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help feeling a bit curious. "Fine, let's get this over with. How long do I have to keep it?"

"Until I say so," she replied, her smile widening.

Shruti beamed and ran off to tell Mom about her results. I stood there, my mind racing. "How will she trouble me?" I wondered aloud, anxiety gnawing at me. My sister's enthusiasm for the bet's outcome made me increasingly nervous about what lay ahead.

Six Months Later

Days passed, turning into months. It had now been six months since the bet, and my hair had grown past my shoulders. I was surprised by how quickly it was growing, but my mom mentioned that it was probably due to our family genes. To manage it at college, I had to wear it in a ponytail. Whenever I let it down, people mistook me for a girl because it was naturally straight, smooth, and silky. I still couldn't figure out what my sister and mom did, but my hair had become very feminine.

One day, when I came home from college, my sister Shruti greeted me with a surprising announcement. "Let's go for a haircut," she said with a mischievous smile.

I stared at her, bewildered. "A haircut? Already? But my hair's grown so fast. Why now?"I asked, feeling a mix of relief and confusion

She grinned and shrugged. "Exactly, it's grown so fast. Plus, it's a part of the bet, remember? You have to maintain it properly."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Fine, but just a trim. I kind of like it this way."

Shruti laughed. "Don't worry, we'll just make it look even better."

I changed into my casual clothes, and we headed to the salon. Shruti said it was a unisex salon, but most of the customers were female. She made a booking in my name and called for the stylist. "I'm not paying for this," I warned her.

"Don't worry, I've got it covered," she replied cheerfully.

At the Salon

A young female stylist guided us to a chair. "Hi, I'm Priya," she introduced herself. "Let's get started."

As Priya washed my hair, I began to relax. The warm water and gentle massage felt soothing after a long day at college. After drying my hair a bit, she started trimming it. The relaxation made me close my eyes, almost drifting off to sleep.

Priya chatted with me throughout the process, complimenting my hair. "Your hair is so smooth and silky. Do you use any special products?"

I blushed, embarrassed. "Not really, my mom and sister take care of it."

Shruti, standing nearby, couldn't resist teasing me. "He loves long hair and plans to grow it even longer."

My cheeks turned red as I mumbled, "It's just a bet."

Priya giggled. "Well, you're lucky to have such great hair. Most girls would be jealous."

I sighed internally. "Yeah, lucky me."

Shruti laughed, adding, "You should see him trying to manage it in the morning. It's like
watching a comedy show."

"Hey, that's not fair!" I protested. "It's not easy, you know."

Priya joined in the teasing. "Maybe you should get some tips from your sister."

"I already do," I admitted, feeling more embarrassed.

After the Trim

I woke up with Shruti standing next to me, grinning. "Your hair looks amazing!" she exclaimed.
"Thanks," I replied, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment.

Priya turned my chair towards the mirror. My jaw dropped. I now had a long shoulder-length bob resting on my shoulders.

Rohit's fresh haircut.

It made me look more feminine than usual. Panic set in. "How will I attend college with this hair?" I asked Shruti, my voice trembling.

"Just keep it in a ponytail," Shruti explained. "It'll be fine."

"But I look like a girl!" I protested, my anxiety growing.

Shruti placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Besides, it looks great on you."

I sighed, still feeling uneasy. "I hope you're right."

Priya smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "You'll be the trendsetter at your college."

Shruti laughed. "See, even Priya agrees."

I couldn't help but smile a little. "Alright, alright. Let's get out of here."

On the Way Home

As we walked home, Shruti couldn't resist teasing me. "So, how does it feel to have salon-fresh hair?"

I rolled my eyes. "Feels... different. It's softer, I guess."

She laughed. "You looked so cute falling asleep in the chair."

"Yeah, yeah. I was just tired from college."

"You sure? I think you were just enjoying the pampering."

I sighed. "Maybe a little."

We reached home, and as soon as we stepped inside, Mom looked up from the kitchen. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she giggled. "Oh my, Rohit! You look so pretty with your new haircut."

"Mom!" I groaned, feeling my cheeks heat up.

She walked over and touched my hair. "Honestly, it suits you. Long hair really does look good on you."

I sighed, trying to hide my embarrassment. "Thanks, Mom."

Shruti grinned. "I told you, didn't I? Now everyone agrees."

Mom nodded, giving me a warm smile. "You've been handling this bet so well, Rohit. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, well, it's not easy," I admitted. "But you and Shruti make it bearable."

Mom chuckled. "That's because we love you. And we love taking care of you."

Shruti added, "Besides, it's fun having a brother with such nice hair."

I laughed, feeling the warmth of their affection. "Okay, okay. I'll admit it. Having you both take care of my hair has made us closer."

Mom hugged me. "That's the spirit. Now, how about we have dinner and talk about your day?"

"Sure," I agreed, feeling grateful for my family. Despite the teasing and the challenges, their support made everything worthwhile.
It's been three days and maintaining my hair in a ponytail was turning into a nightmare. The strands were so smooth that the band kept slipping away. I tried my best to keep it under control, but on the fourth day, during lunchtime, something unexpected happened.

College Lunch Break

I was chatting with my friend, completely forgetting about the scrunchie that was barely holding my hair together. As I turned to hand him something, the scrunchie slipped off, and my hair fell loose, revealing my new bob haircut. My friend’s eyes widened in surprise.

"Whoa, did you get a haircut?" he asked, trying to stifle a laugh.

I stayed quiet, my face heating up as the boys at the back noticed and started teasing me. "Hey, nice haircut, princess!" one of them called out, making the others laugh.

I felt embarrassed, frantically looking around for the scrunchie. Just then, I saw a girl approaching me, holding the scrunchie. My heart skipped a beat when I realized it was the girl, I had a crush on.

"Hey, you dropped this," she said, handing me the scrunchie with a warm smile.

"Uh, thanks," I stammered, feeling my cheeks burn.

She gently tucked some stray strands behind my ear, making me even more flustered. "You look better like this," she said softly. "Just keep them tied up, okay?"

I nodded, too shy to speak. I heard a chorus of agreement from the other girls around, which only made me more self-conscious. I didn't tie my hair back immediately, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and excitement.

"See you around, Rohit," she added with a wink before walking away.

My friend nudged me playfully. "Man, you just talked to your crush and she complimented you! You're so lucky!"

"Shut up," I mumbled, but couldn't help the small smile on my face.

On the way home, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. When I got home, Shruti was the first to notice my untied hair.

"Hey, what happened to your ponytail?" she asked, a smirk forming on her lips.

"Uh, nothing," I mumbled, heading to my room to freshen up.

Afterward, I went to Shruti's room to explain. She was all ears, grinning widely as I recounted the day's events.
"So, you’re getting popular with the girls now, huh?" she teased. "Looks like my plan is working better than I thought!"

"Stop it, Shruti," I groaned, but I couldn't help but smile.

"Come on, you have to admit it's kind of funny," she laughed. "I mean, you were always the one teasing me about my hair, and now look at you."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "But seriously, I think it's because of you and Mom that my hair looks so... well, girly."

"You're welcome," she said, giving me a playful shove. "But you know, it suits you. And if it helps you get closer to your crush, then it's a win-win, right?"

"Maybe," I admitted, feeling my cheeks heat up again.

"Just don't forget to take care of it," Shruti said, patting my head. "And if you need any tips, you know where to find me."

"Thanks, Sis," I said, genuinely appreciating her support.

From that day on, I decided to leave my hair down. Sure enough, the teasing from the boys continued, but I also noticed more and more girls complimenting my hair and striking up conversations with me. It was a strange new experience, and while it was a bit overwhelming, it also made me feel more confident.

After a year

It's now a year since I first started to grow my hair. I am now used to go for trims with my sister and became Priya's regular customer. My sister played a lot with my hair. My hair was now quite famous with the girls. It now reaches my back, which is quite long for a boy, but I kind of like it now.

Rohit with his back length hair.

It was silky, shiny, and felt incredibly soft to the touch. Whenever I walked through the college corridors, I could feel the gentle swish of my hair against my back. It made me feel unique, even if it drew some teasing from the boys. They called me "Rapunzel" or "Princess," but the girls admired it, often asking for hair care tips, which was both flattering and embarrassing.

One time, my sister tricked me into wearing girls' clothes and took me to the mall. I was so embarrassed that I couldn't talk properly to anyone, but no one found out I was a boy. That day was quite tiring and it was all because I lost a bet, AGAIN! But this story is for another time.

College Life

In college, things were different. My hair was long enough that I had to manage it carefully. Sometimes I was mistaken for a tomboy because of my style and demeanour. It was a weird mix of confusion and curiosity from my classmates. I started wearing my hair in a high ponytail because I liked how it swung when I walked, but it didn't always stay in place, causing moments of embarrassment.

One night, I came back home from college in a good mood. My sister saw me and asked about it.
"Why are you so happy?" she inquired.

"I'll tell you after dinner," I replied, keeping her in suspense.

After dinner, she took me to her room and asked me about it. "Okay, spill. What's going on?"
"I made a new friend today," I said, a bit shyly. "She's quite famous in class for her beauty, and she complimented my hair."

Shruti teased me, "Oh, look at you! Getting popular with the girls nowadays. Who's the lucky one?"

I blushed, "It's nothing like that. She just liked my hair."

Shruti grinned, "Well, you do have beautiful hair. Speaking of which, I want to try a new
hairstyle on you. You're in such a good mood, and it'll be fun!"

Feeling cheerful, I agreed. "Okay, sure. What do you have in mind?"

She took my hair out of its high ponytail. I had started wearing it a bit higher since it had gotten longer. I liked how it swung sometimes when I walked.

"Close your eyes," she instructed. "I want this to be a surprise."

I closed my eyes, feeling the gentle tug of the brush as she started brushing my hair.
It was relaxing, and I trusted her completely. After a while, I felt her parting my hair down the middle. It was a new sensation, and I couldn't help but wonder what she was up to.

"Shruti, what are you doing?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Just wait and see," she said, giggling. "You'll love it, I promise."

I felt the weight of my hair shift to one shoulder. I was about to touch it, but she stopped me.
"Not yet! Keep your eyes closed."

After a few more minutes, she finally said, "Okay, open your eyes."

When I saw myself in the mirror, I was surprised beyond belief.

Rohit had his hair done in braids for the first time

She had done twin braids, with a middle parting just like the schoolgirls. It looked so clean and sleek that it made me look like a girl. I had no words to say.

"Wow, Shruti... I don't even recognize myself," I finally managed, feeling my cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and astonishment.

She laughed, clearly amused by my reaction. "You look adorable! Do you like it?"

I was quiet, not sure how to respond. I didn't hate it, but it was such a drastic change. The braids felt snug and secure, but seeing myself in the mirror with such a feminine hairstyle was a shock. "It's... different," I said, trying to mask my true feelings.

Shruti noticed my hesitation. "I'm sorry if you don't like it. But, you know, I used to hate this hairstyle when I was a kid. Now, it's one of my favourites because it keeps the hair secure and gives a sleek look. That's why I keep my hair in single or twin braids."

She continued, "If you don't like it, I won't force you. But if you do, maybe you could at least try to keep a single braid at home."

I hesitated, then touched my braids for the first time. They were thick and perfectly tied, not even a strand out of place. The middle parting was flawless. The texture of the braids under my fingers felt smooth and neat. I couldn't deny that it felt... nice. Different, but not in a bad way. "Well, it's definitely... different," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, though a part of me was already warming up to the new look.

Shruti laughed again. "Come on, I can tell you don't hate it. Just try it for a while. It might grow on you."

I sighed, "Fine, I'll try to keep them sometimes, but only to make you happy."

"Now let Mom see them," Shruti said excitedly.

I was reluctant and very shy about showing Mom. "Do we have to?"

"Yes, Mom at least deserves to see," Shruti insisted, practically dragging me to her.

When Mom first saw me, she too laughed and said, "Oh my, you look just like Shruti! But I must say, you look very confident with those braids."

I felt a mix of embarrassment and pride. "Thanks, Mom," I muttered, feeling my cheeks burn.

Mom then inspected my hair more closely, running her fingers through the braids. "You know, your sister did a fantastic job. These braids are perfect."

Shruti beamed, "Thanks, Mom! I told him he should try this style more often."

Mom continued, "You know, I think this suits you. You should wear your hair like this more often."

I felt a strange sense of warmth and acceptance hearing that from Mom. I couldn't help but smile, albeit shyly. "I'll think about it," I said, trying to play it cool, but inside, I felt a little more open to the idea.

Shruti joined in, "See? Even Mom agrees. You're getting popular with the girls and now Mom approves. You're on a roll, little brother!"
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. The braids felt comfortable, and though I wasn't ready to admit it fully, a part of me did like the way they looked and felt. It was a new experience, one that I was slowly starting to embrace.

Some Days Later

Then one day, Shruti came running out of her room, her face beaming with joy. Both Mom and I were taken aback by her excitement.

"What is it, Shruti?" Mom asked, curiosity and concern in her voice.

"I got the job! The one I've wanted for so long!" Shruti exclaimed, unable to contain her happiness.

Mom and I immediately enveloped her in a tight hug, congratulating her. "That's fantastic news, Shruti!" I said, feeling genuinely happy for her. "We need to celebrate! How about some pastries?"

We quickly arranged a small celebration, enjoying pastries together in our cozy kitchen. While munching on the sweets, I asked her more about the job.

"So, where is it? When do you start?" I inquired, curious about the details.
"It's in Bangalore," Shruti replied, her eyes sparkling. "And I need to leave in ten days."

My heart sank a little at the news. "Ten days? That’s so soon. What about my birthday? It's in forty days."

Shruti hesitated for a moment, her smile faltering slightly. "I'll try my best to come back for your birthday, Rohit. But even if I can't, we'll try to celebrate it early."

We spent the next ten days enjoying ourselves as much as we could. We went on a short trip to a nearby hill station, saw a movie together, had dinner with our relatives, and helped Shruti prepare for her move. As the day of her departure approached, a sense of nervousness settled over both Shruti and me.

The Day of the Journey

I woke up early with my mom that day. Shruti was still sleeping. I quickly got freshened up, took a bath, and changed into my clothes. Then I approached Mom with a special request.

"Mom," I said hesitantly, "could you tie my hair in twin braids today? I want to surprise Shruti. It's her last day here."

Mom looked at me with surprise but then smiled warmly. "Of course, Rohit. Come, sit here."

As she started working on my hair, she began reminiscing. "You know, I used to braid Shruti's hair just like this when she was little. She would always complain, but she secretly loved it."
I smiled, imagining little Shruti with her braids. "I remember pulling her hair when she annoyed me."

Mom laughed softly. "Yes, and now look at you, sitting here, getting your hair braided. How times have changed."

She continued, carefully parting my hair down the middle. "These braids will look very feminine, Rohit. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

I nodded. "It's okay, Mom. I want to make Shruti happy today."

Mom's hands moved deftly, weaving my hair into two neat braids. Her touch was gentle and reassuring, and I felt a sense of calm as she worked. It was different from when Shruti did it. Mom’s touch was gentler, more practiced, and she made sure every strand was perfectly in place. She hummed softly, a tune she used to hum when she braided Shruti's hair, making the experience even more nostalgic and comforting.

"There," she said, tying off the second braid with a small elastic band. "You look great, Rohit."

I heard Shruti stirring in her room about twenty minutes later. When she came out, freshened up and ready for breakfast, I surprised her from behind.
"Good morning!" I said, turning to reveal my braids.

Shruti's eyes widened in surprise. "Rohit! You...you did twin braids!"

Even Mom laughed and added, "He asked me to do it for you, Shruti."

Shruti's expression softened, and she gave me a hug. "Thank you, Rohit. This means a lot to me. I’m so happy you did this for me."

I smiled shyly. "I thought it would be a nice surprise. Mom did a great job, didn’t she?"

Shruti nodded enthusiastically. "She really did. Your braids look perfect. They’re so neat and tidy, just like how she used to do mine."

I laughed. "Yeah, she mentioned that. It's funny how things change."

Shruti teased, "You know, I'd be even happier if the braids were longer."

I laughed again, though a bit shyly. "Maybe someday. But for now, let's just enjoy today."

We shared a heartfelt breakfast together, and the atmosphere was filled with a mix of happiness and a hint of sadness. We knew things were about to change, but for now, we cherished the moment we had together.

The Journey to the Train Station and Saying Goodbye

We were in a taxi heading to the train station. On the way, Shruti kept reassuring me, “Don’t worry, Rohit. Nobody will recognize you.”

I fidgeted with the ends of my braids, my nerves getting the best of me. “I’m just not used to wearing them outside the house,” I admitted.

Shruti laughed softly. “You look fine, really. In fact, you look better because your hair is so long now. Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

When we arrived at the station, I took a deep breath and got out to help with her luggage. As I lifted the bags, Shruti couldn’t resist making a comment, “Look at you, my little brother-turned-sister for the day.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Shruti. Very reassuring.”

“Hey, I’m just saying you pull off the look well,” she said with a grin. “No one’s even giving you a second glance.”

She was right. As we walked through the bustling station, no one gave me any strange looks. Some girls glanced at me, but they didn’t seem to find anything odd. Instead, I looked like a tomboy, blending in with the crowd.

Even Shruti’s best friend, who came to the station to see her off, didn’t recognize me at first. “Shruti, who’s this?” she asked, puzzled.

Shruti burst out laughing. “This is Rohit! Can you believe it?”

Her friend’s eyes widened in shock. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t recognize you at all! You look so different!”

She took a closer look at my braids and smiled. “You know, your hair looks amazing, Rohit. Those braids suit you.”

I blushed a little, feeling both embarrassed and flattered. “Thanks, I guess.”

Shruti’s friend turned to her and said, “You did a great job with his hair, Shruti.”

Shruti beamed with pride. “Thanks! He’s been a good sport about it, and today, he really made me happy by wearing these braids.”

We all talked a little, trying to keep the mood light. But soon, the train arrived, and the reality of Shruti’s departure started to sink in. I helped her with her luggage, and my heart grew heavy with the thought of her leaving.

Mom’s eyes were misty as she watched. Shruti noticed our sadness and tried to liven up the mood. “Come on, you guys! It’s not like I’m disappearing forever,” she joked. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

We hugged tightly, and she said her goodbyes to everyone. “Take care of Mom for me, okay?” she said, looking at me. “And don’t let her miss me too much.”

Mom stepped forward, her voice tinged with concern. “Shruti, do you have everything you need? Your tickets, your ID, some snacks?”

Shruti smiled and hugged her. “Yes, Mom, I’ve got everything. Don’t worry.”

She turned to her friend and hugged her too. “Stay in touch, okay? We’ll have a lot to catch up on when I visit.”

Finally, as the train’s whistle blew, signaling its imminent departure, Shruti hugged me again.
“I’ll call you when I reach. Promise me you’ll keep those braids neat and tidy,” she teased, trying to lighten the moment.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I will. Just come back soon.”
The train started to move, and we all waved, our eyes locked on Shruti until she disappeared from view. As the train pulled away, the finality of the goodbye hit us. Mom and I stood there for a moment, feeling the absence already.

We slowly turned to leave, the station now feeling emptier than before. The journey home was quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts, adjusting to the new reality of Shruti’s absence.

When we arrived home, the mood was still a bit gloomy. Mom suggested, "Rohit, why don't you go out for a while? I'm thinking of meeting my friends too." Just as she said that, I got a call from my friend, Ananya. She was the new friend I mentioned before, and we had grown quite close.
"Hey, Rohit! I'm close to your home. I finished my work and have some free time. Can you come to the cafe nearby?" she asked cheerfully.

I thought for a moment and then asked Mom, who insisted, "Take Shruti's scooter so you don't keep her waiting."

I quickly took the keys and headed out. As I reached the café and saw Ananya, I realized I forgot to take my braids out. When she looked at me, she was confused at first but then realized it was me.

"Rohit, is that you?" she asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

I was very embarrassed, trying to hide my braids. "Yeah, it's me," I said, scratching the back of my head nervously. "It's a long story. Let's talk inside."

We went into the cafe and found a quiet corner. Ananya smiled, "You look... cute. I mean, your braids are perfect."

I blushed, trying to explain, "It's just something I did for my sister. She moved to Bangalore today, and I wanted to make her happy."

"That's really sweet," she said, her tone flirty. "I think it looks nice on you."

We talked for quite a while about college, studies, family, and friends. The conversation flowed easily, and I found myself enjoying her company more than I expected. It was late at night when we finally finished.

"I should get you home," I said, offering her a ride on Shruti's scooter.

As we rode, Ananya wrapped her arms around my waist, leaning close to my ear. "You know, I think it's really cool that you're so close to your sister. Not many guys would do what you did."
I laughed, trying to hide my blush. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm not like most guys."

When we reached her home, she turned to me with a smile. "Thanks for the ride, Rohit."
"Anytime," I replied.
She paused for a moment, then said softly, "I really do think your braids look nice. It’s a good look on you."

"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

She gave me a quick hug. "See you tomorrow, Rohit," she said, waving as she walked away.
I was left standing there, feeling very happy. That hug replayed in my mind all the way home. I was lost in my thoughts, only to remember Shruti’s call when I was about to sleep. I quickly called her back.

"Hey, Shruti," I said softly, hearing her half-asleep voice on the other end.

"Rohit? Why are you calling so late?" she mumbled.

"I just wanted to tell you what happened today. I met Ananya, and we talked for hours. And guess what? She hugged me when I dropped her home," I said, excitement bubbling in my voice.
"See? It’s because of the braids," she teased, her voice groggy but happy. "I knew they’d bring you luck."

"Maybe you're right," I laughed. "Thanks, Shruti. You always know how to cheer me up."
"It’s late. We should sleep," she said, yawning. "Goodnight, Rohit. And don’t worry, everything will be fine."

"Goodnight, Shruti," I replied, feeling a warmth in my chest. I lay down, thinking about the day, the hug, and Shruti’s words. I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face, feeling hopeful about the future but also a bit uneasy about the changes ahead.

Next Morning

I woke up to my mom with tears in her eyes. I quickly sat up, alarmed, because I had never seen her cry like that in a long time.

"Mom, what happened?" I asked, my voice filled with concern.

She struggled to speak through her sobs. "Rohit, we got a call from a hospital near Bangalore. Shruti's train was derailed early this morning."

My heart sank. "It must be a prank call," I said, desperately trying to convince myself.

But then my phone rang. It was my uncle, and his voice confirmed our worst fears. I handed the phone to my mom, who immediately started making travel arrangements.

I turned on the TV, and every channel was covering the news about the train derailment, confirming our fears. I tried to calm myself and then helped my mom as we hurried to get ready. Uncle arrived with a car to take us to the hospital.

The car ride was a blur of fear and anxiety. Mom clutched my hand, her grip tight and trembling. "Rohit, I can't lose her," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"She'll be okay, Mom. Shruti's strong," I replied, though my voice wavered with uncertainty. I wanted to believe my own words, but the gnawing dread in my chest wouldn't let me.

When we arrived at the hospital, a doctor met us with a somber expression. "I'm sorry," he said, "but your daughter did not survive. She died before she reached the hospital due to the impact to her neck."

Mom collapsed into my arms, her sobs filling the sterile hallway. I stood there, numb, unable to process the words. The world felt like it was spinning around me, but I was stuck in place, a silent observer to the nightmare unfolding.

Throughout the whole ordeal, I couldn't accept what had happened. While others cried and expressed their sadness, I was silent, trapped in a different kind of grief. I helped with the funeral arrangements, doing everything robotically, without emotion. People tried talking to me, but I just nodded or shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. I did everything like a robot, going through the motions without truly feeling anything.

Five days after everything was over and all the guests had left, Mom and I finally had some alone time. It was then that the dam broke. I lashed out, my voice trembling with anger. "Why did she have to leave us so early? Why was God so cruel to take her away?"

Mom listened silently, tears streaming down her face, finally understanding why I had been so quiet. "I hate this!" I shouted. "I hate everything! She promised she would come back. She promised!"

In a fit of rage, I grabbed a pair of scissors, intent on cutting off my hair. But Mom stopped me, her grip firm but gentle. "Don't," she said softly. "This hair... it's part of her happy memories. She wouldn't want you to do this."

I sank to the floor, sobbing. "I don't know what to do without her."

Mom knelt beside me, hugging me tightly. "I know, Rohit. I know. But we have to keep going. For her."

I looked at her, my eyes filled with tears. "Why do I feel nothing, Mom? Why can't I cry like everyone else?"

"You're in shock," she said softly. "Everyone grieves differently. You loved her so much, and this is how you're coping. It's okay to feel what you're feeling."

I wiped my tears, feeling a mixture of anger and sorrow. "I just want to make the pain stop."
She then handed me a letter and a gift-wrapped box. "Shruti prepared this for your birthday in advance, in case she couldn't make it back because of her job."

I stared at the package, my hands trembling. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I thought it might help you now," she said, her voice breaking. "I'll give you some time."

She left me alone in my room. Rohit sat on his bed, the letter trembling in his hands as he read through the words written in Shruti's familiar handwriting. His heart ached with each line, a mix of sorrow and bittersweet memories flooding his mind. The letter read:

After reading the letter, Rohit laughed softly. "Typical Shruti," he said, shaking his head with a smile. But then the tears started flowing, uncontrollably and continuously. Her words felt like a warm hug, full of love and encouragement. He hugged the letter to his chest, feeling a deep connection to his sister even though she was gone. Her playful teasing about his hair, her unwavering support, and her affection enveloped him, making him feel both comforted and devastated.

He carefully opened the gift-wrapped box. Inside, he found the headphones he had wanted for a long time, a beautiful silver bracelet engraved with the words "Be Brave, Little Brother," and a delicate hairpin with a note that read, "For your long hair, when you finally grow it out. Love, Shruti."

He chuckled through his tears as he held the hairpin. "She always knew how to make me smile," he murmured.

He showed the hairpin to his mom and hugged her tightly, crying for some time. "She got me these," he said, showing her the headphones, bracelet, and hairpin.

His mom hugged him back, her own tears mingling with his. "She loved you so much, Rohit. And she’ll always be with us, in our hearts and in our memories."

After calming down a bit, Rohit took his hair into his hands and looked at his mom. "Mom, I want to grow my hair as long as I can maintain it, for her," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Even if I end up looking more like a girl or whatever society says, I will grow it long for her."
His mom smiled through her tears and gently touched his hair. "She would have loved that, Rohit. And so do I. I'll help you take care of it, just like I used to do for Shruti. We'll make sure it's healthy and beautiful, just like she wanted."

We sat together in silence for a while, finding solace in each other’s presence

The following year was incredibly tough on us. Adjusting to life without Shruti was a daily struggle. Every time I did my hair, I was reminded of her. I became a quiet person, a shadow of my former self. In college, I talked very little and preferred to stay at home. Ananya understood my need for space and respected it. To keep myself occupied, I threw myself into my studies, but I neglected my diet and lost weight as a result.

Despite everything, I remained dedicated to my hair care. My mom helped me a lot with this. Every other night, either she or I would brush my hair to keep it smooth and healthy. We used special oils and treatments that Shruti had recommended. The routine became a comforting ritual, a way to keep her memory alive. Mom would often say, “Let’s make sure your hair shines like Shruti’s smile,” as she gently worked the oil into my scalp. She’d recount stories from when Shruti and I were kids, how I used to pull her hair playfully, and now, ironically, I was the one with long, beautiful hair.

By the time I reached my final year of college, my hair had grown to the same length Shruti's had been—waist-length.

It became cumbersome to wear it down, so I started styling it in a single braid or a bun. I was probably the only boy in college with hair like this, and I often received curious looks from others. But I didn't let it bother me because I knew Shruti would have wanted me to continue.

During this period, I got a part-time job at a library thanks to a teacher who understood my situation. The library was far, but it was worth it. The calm atmosphere and free coffee were soothing, and the access to books was a huge bonus. The library became my sanctuary, the one place where I felt comfortable letting my hair down, both literally and figuratively. I worked there for over three years, even after completing my master's degree, as I wanted to fund my education myself, despite my mom's willingness to pay.

Life began to normalize during this time. I got used to my long hair, and taking care of it became a daily habit. After graduating, I lost touch with most of my friends as they moved away for further studies or jobs. Ananya and I still talked occasionally over the phone, but it wasn't the same.
When it was time to join my new college for my master's degree, my hair was just over my butt.

Rohit with hip length hair

It had become silkier and smoother, thanks to my mom's diligent care. This led to many funny incidents at my new college. For instance, during orientation, a professor mistook me for a female student and handed me a pamphlet on women's clubs.

"Here you go, miss, a pamphlet for our women's clubs," the professor said, smiling.
I took it without thinking and then realized what had happened. "Actually, sir, I'm Rohit."
The professor looked flustered. "Oh, I’m terribly sorry! Your hair is just so... impressive."
Another time, a girl complimented me on my 'gorgeous braid,' only to be shocked when she realized I was a guy.

“Wow, your braid is gorgeous! What conditioner do you use?” she asked, admiring my hair.
“Thanks! I use a mix of oils and a lot of patience,” I replied, turning slightly to face her.
She gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re a guy! That’s amazing. I wish my boyfriend had hair like yours.”

By the end of my term, my hair had grown past my butt, longer than even most girls'. My mom adored it, often saying, "You have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen, Rohit. Shruti would be so proud."
However, the length of my hair became a problem when I started job hunting. I was rejected from interviews because my hair was deemed 'distracting,' which frustrated me immensely. Although my part-time job at the library helped, it wasn't enough. The situation worsened when the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and the library had to close.

During COVID-19, I was really down about losing my part-time job at the library. My mom was worried about me, seeing me struggle with the sudden change. During this time, one of my friends asked if I could teach some of his juniors online. I agreed, and surprisingly, I found it fulfilling. Seeing how well I did, my mom recommended me to one of her friends who was a teacher at a coaching class.

After the lockdown ended, I joined the coaching classes as an assistant teacher. By this time, my hair had grown to my thighs, and every step I took made my braid swing dramatically. It became quite the spectacle. One particularly funny incident happened during a class. I was writing on the board when a gust of wind from an open window sent my braid flying over my shoulder and smacked a student in the face. The whole class burst into laughter, and even I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Okay, okay, class, let's settle down," I said, trying to regain control. But the incident had left a lasting impression.

After that day, I realized I needed to find a better way to manage my hair to avoid such distractions. So, I started wearing it in a bun.

After 2 Years.

After two years of working at the coaching class, one of the supervisors, a kind-hearted gentleman, was impressed with my performance. He recommended me for a teaching position at a prestigious girls' college, which I now attend. The only problem was that I had to leave my mom since the college was in another city.

"Mom, I don’t want to leave you alone," I said, feeling torn.

"Rohit, you need to live your own life. I can manage here," she reassured me with a smile.

Still, I was nervous about the interview. My hair now reached my knees. For the interview, I wore a suit and styled my hair in a braided bun.

Rohit Wearing his hair in braided bun.

Just before I left, my mom called.

"Good luck, beta. You’ll do great," she encouraged me.

When I arrived for the interview, the receptionist mistook me for a woman.

"Miss, you can wait in the lobby," she said.

"Actually, I’m here for the teaching interview," I corrected her, chuckling.

The headmaster, a middle-aged woman with a similar but smaller bun, greeted me with a stern expression.

"So, Ms. Sharma, what brings you here?" she asked, scanning through my resume with a scrutinizing gaze.
I cleared my throat. "It's actually Mr. Sharma," I corrected, trying to hide my nervousness.

She raised an eyebrow. "I see. Your appearance can be quite misleading, Mr. Sharma."

I took a deep breath and started explaining my journey, from growing my hair to honor my sister’s memory to my teaching experiences and how they shaped me. As I spoke, I could see her expression slowly softening.

"Your story is quite unique, Mr. Sharma. We need dedicated and passionate teachers like you," she said warmly after a while. "But before we go any further, I’d like to see your hair in its full length."

A bit surprised, I undid my bun and let my hair fall to its full length, cascading past my knees. The headmaster’s eyes widened slightly.

"Not many people can maintain such dedication and discipline. This is the kind of commitment we need in our staff. Welcome to our college," she said with a smile.

Back To Present

Neha got emotional and had tears in her eyes. Rohit, noticing this, softened his demeanor. "Sorry if this was a bit too much," he said gently.

Neha wiped her eyes and smiled. "No, sir. I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me about your life. It means a lot to me."

Rohit gave her a warm smile in return. "Thank you for listening, Neha. Sharing it with someone feels like a burden lifted."

Neha thought about how beautifully and in detail he had shared his experiences. It was like she was seeing him in a new light, gaining more respect and admiration for him with each passing moment. She felt a deep connection forming, a sense of understanding and compassion that hadn't been there before.

As they both looked outside, they noticed the rain was slowing down. "I should probably leave now," Rohit said, glancing at the clock. "I have some work to do for the college, and it's getting late."

He then started to braid his hair, his fingers moving deftly but with a hint of haste. Neha watched him for a moment before offering, "Sir, let me check if your clothes have dried."

Rohit nodded, and Neha quickly went to check. "They're still wet," she reported back.

Rohit looked a bit uncomfortable, not wanting to go out in wet clothes but feeling shy about wearing the girls' clothes she had given him. Neha saw his predicament and suddenly had an idea. "Wait a moment," she said, hurrying off. She returned with a new face mask. "Here, sir. This should help."

Rohit took the mask, understanding her plan. As he braided his long, silky hair, Neha couldn't help but giggle inside. His hair was so feminine and delicate, reaching all the way to his knees. Watching him braid it was both endearing and fascinating.

When the rain finally stopped, he wore the mask, and Neha escorted him to his vehicle. Just before he got on his bike, Rohit remembered something. "Oh, about helping you study... I have an idea," he began. "When you don't have your part-time job shift, we can go to the library after college. I can help you with your studies there."

Realizing that they would be alone, Rohit got a bit shy but continued, "But only if you're okay with it."

Neha, who was quite happy with this turnout, immediately said, "Yes! I'd really appreciate that, sir."

Rohit smiled, feeling relieved. "Great. We'll make it work then."

They exchanged goodbyes. "Thank you for everything, Neha. Take care," Rohit said, putting on his helmet.

"You too, sir. Thank you for trusting me with your story. See you soon," Neha replied warmly.

As Rohit rode off, Neha stood there for a moment, thinking about Rohit sir and everything he had shared with her. She felt a deeper connection and a growing admiration for him as she watched him disappear into the distance. She was looking forward to the future, thinking about Rohit's story and how it made her feel. The day had been emotional, enlightening, and had brought her closer to understanding the man behind the long, beautiful hair.

Hey Guy Tomi Here, Writing this chapter was incredibly challenging for me. Capturing the deep emotions and complex relationships between Rohit and Shruti, as well as portraying the impact of such a profound loss, required a lot of care and sensitivity. This chapter is a pivotal part of the story, and I hope it conveyed the depth of their bond and the reasons behind Rohit's transformation. Thank you for journeying with me through this emotional chapter. I invite you to continue reading to discover how the story unfolds in the next part.

Also Here is something I made to explain the growth timeline for Rohits hair.

{NOTE: Images and links are used only as the reference to the character in the story}

Next Day:
When Rohit sir came to teach, I couldn't help but notice his bun again. His long, silky hair was tied neatly, and it reminded me of the reason he grew it so long. Growing hair this long as a guy is so hard. I can't even imagine how much time and patience it takes to maintain that quality of hair. How did he handle people's reactions? As I thought about this, my admiration for him grew even more. He wasn't just a teacher to me now; he was someone who had faced immense challenges and came out stronger.

I found myself unable to focus on the upcoming classes at all. My mind kept drifting back to Rohit sir and his story. Even Katrina noticed my distraction and asked me what was wrong. I wanted to tell her, but I respected his personal story too much to share it without his consent. "Just a lot on my mind," I replied vaguely, trying to brush off her concerns.

But that wasn't the only thing on my mind. I was eagerly anticipating tomorrow's study session. Today, I had my job, so I couldn't meet him. Still, the thought of our session kept me excited and anxious at the same time. What would we talk about? How would it go? I couldn't wait to see him again and learn more about him.

First Study Session
When college was over, I was waiting anxiously for a call from Rohit sir. Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from him.

"Hi Neha, go home and get fresh. Meet me after an hour at this library." He shared the location, and I noticed it was a bit far from college but at an equal distance from both our homes.

Seeing the message, I felt a rush of excitement and nerves. I went home, my mind racing with thoughts about what to wear. Should I dress casually or a bit more formally? Would he notice my effort? I wanted to make a good impression, but I also didn't want to look like I was trying too hard.

I settled on a simple, yet nice outfit and made sure I looked presentable. My thoughts kept circling around our upcoming session. How would it be to study alone with him? Would he be different outside of college? The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but I knew it was worth it.

I arrived at the location and messaged him. He replied that he would be there in ten minutes and asked me to find a good place. As I stepped inside, the library enveloped me in its calm and peaceful atmosphere. It was minimalistic, with clean lines and simple decor. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves filled with neatly arranged books. The soft lighting and the occasional sound of pages turning added to the serene environment. It felt like a haven of knowledge and tranquillity.

I wandered around, taking in the quiet beauty of the place. Eventually, I found an empty spot near a window with two chairs and a table. The view outside was of a small, well-kept garden. It seemed like the perfect place for our study session. I sat down, trying to calm my nerves, and waited for him, my mind racing with anticipation.

A few minutes later, I saw him entering the library, looking around for me. He was still in his college attire, and I signalled to him. He spotted me and walked over, both of us greeting each other with shy smiles.

"Hi," he said softly, settling his bag down on the table. "Give me a few minutes."

I nodded, watching as he undid his bun. His hair cascaded down, almost touching the floor even while he was sitting. He sighed in relief, "Wearing a bun can be a bit taxing, especially when you have hair this long."
"I can imagine," I replied, mesmerized by the sight of his silky, straight hair. It looked so fresh and well-kept, even after a long day.
He took a brush and a scrunchie from his bag and began brushing his hair gently. Each stroke seemed to make his hair gleam even more. His hair was so silky that it kept falling onto his face, and he kept tucking it behind his ear.

"Your hair is amazing," I said, unable to hide my admiration. "It must take a lot of time and effort to maintain it."

He smiled softly, a bit more open and relaxed than usual. "Thank you. It does take a lot of work, but it's worth it."

As he continued brushing, I noticed he seemed a bit more at ease, even letting his feminine side show. It was nice to see him like this, more open and comfortable.

"Are you sure it's okay to let your hair down here?" I asked, concerned. "I mean, people might stare."
He appreciated the concern in my voice. "I appreciate your kindness, Neha. But it's alright. I've learned to deal with it. Besides, it's just hair."

I nodded, still in awe of his confidence. "If you ever need any help with it, just let me know," I offered.

"That's very sweet of you," he replied, his eyes warm with gratitude. "Thank you, Neha."

"You're welcome," I said, feeling a bit shy but happy to help.

After brushing his hair thoroughly, Rohit took the scrunchie and gathered his hair into a high ponytail, securing it neatly.

Rohit Tying His Hair in a Ponytail.

His movements were practiced and graceful, a testament to the care he put into maintaining his long hair. Once done, he looked at me with a satisfied smile, his ponytail swinging slightly as he moved.

"So, shall we begin?" he asked, settling back into his chair.

"Yes, let's," I replied, trying to focus on the study session ahead.

Then Rohit sir started explaining the subject in detail. His teaching style was patient and thorough, making complex concepts easier to grasp. He used simple analogies and encouraged questions, creating an open and comfortable learning environment.

"Let's start with the basics," he said, opening his textbook. "Once we understand the foundation, the rest will follow naturally."

I listened intently, taking notes and occasionally asking questions. Rohit was always ready with clear explanations, never making her feel inadequate for not understanding something immediately.

"You're doing great," he said encouragingly. "Remember, it's okay to take your time with these concepts."

After explaining a particularly challenging topic, he gave me some time to practice and self-study while he worked on his college assignments on his laptop. The silence of the library was punctuated only by the occasional rustling of pages and the soft tapping of his keyboard.

Two hours passed unnoticed by both of us because we got so comfortable with each other. Sir would occasionally look up from his laptop to check on her progress, offering a smile or a nod of encouragement.

"How are you doing?" he asked after a while, looking up from his screen.

"I think I'm getting the hang of it," I replied, "Thanks to your explanations."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said warmly. "If you need any help, just let me know."

As the session progressed, the atmosphere became even more relaxed. I found herself enjoying the quiet companionship, feeling a growing sense of respect and admiration for him.

"Do you always come to this library?" I asked during a brief break.

"Not always," Rohit replied, closing his laptop for a moment. "But I like the peaceful environment here. It helps me focus."

"I can see why," she said, glancing around the serene space. "It's perfect for studying."

We resumed their work, the hours slipping by unnoticed. The connection between them grew stronger, fueled by mutual respect and a shared goal. By the time we decided to call it a day, both felt a sense of accomplishment and a deeper bond forming.

As they packed up their things, the silence of the library was suddenly broken by a low, unmistakable growl. Neha looked up, her eyes widening slightly as she realized it was Rohit's stomach.

"Was that... you?" she asked, trying to suppress a giggle.

Rohit, clearly embarrassed, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh, yeah. I guess I haven't eaten since lunch."

Neha smiled warmly. "Well, it sounds like we need to fix that. Do you have any plans for dinner?"

Rohit shook his head. "Not really. I was just going to grab something quick on the way home."

Neha's eyes lit up with an idea. "How about we go together? I know a really good Chinese place around here. If you like Chinese food, that is."

Rohit hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I do, actually. That sounds nice."

We left the library together, and I told him about the restaurant. "The owners know me pretty well since I'm a regular. I'm sure you'll love the food."

As we reached the restaurant, a cozy little spot with warm lighting and a welcoming atmosphere, the owner greeted me warmly. "Neha! It's great to see you again."

"It's great to see you too, Mr. Singh," Neha replied with a smile.

Mr. Singh then noticed Rohit and said, "And who is this lovely young lady with you?"

Rohit blushed, and I quickly corrected him. "Actually, this is my friend, Rohit. He's my teacher."

Mr. Singh looked a bit surprised but quickly recovered. "Oh, my apologies! Nice to meet you, Rohit."
Rohit smiled politely. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Sharma."

I recommended him few dishes, and we placed their order. When their food arrived, the delicious aroma filled the air, and we both eagerly dug in. Rohit's face lit up with relief as he took his first bite.

"Wow, this is amazing," he said, his demeanour relaxing. "The food near my home is so bland. I'm really glad to eat something this good."

."I'm so glad you like it! We should make this a regular thing after our study sessions if you’re okay with it." I suggested.

Rohit thought for a moment, looking at Neha's sweet, honest face, and finally agreed. "Yeah, I’d like that. It sounds nice."

As we continued eating, Rohit suggested, "You know, when we're not in college or studying, you can call me 'Rohit' rather than 'sir'."

I blushed a little but smiled. "I'd be happy to, Rohit."

He smiled warmly. "Thank you, Neha."

We talked and laughed, growing closer with each passing moment. Rohit occasionally had to adjust his hair, gently tucking it behind his ear or brushing it out of his face. As I watched him with a soft smile, admiring how he maintained his hair with such grace and care.

As we finished their meal and prepared to leave, I felt a sense of contentment. I was happy to have spent this time with Rohit, and I looked forward to their future study sessions and dinners together.

"Thank you for tonight, Neha," Rohit said as we walked back to the library to pick up their vehicles. "I really enjoyed it."

"Me too, Rohit," Neha replied. "Let's do this again sometime."

"Definitely," Rohit agreed, his eyes reflecting the warmth he felt inside.

We said their goodbyes, and as I watched Rohit leave, I couldn't help but feel excited for the future, knowing that this was just the beginning of something special between them.

Over the next two weeks, our study sessions became a cherished routine. Whenever I didn’t have my shift, Rohit and I would meet at the library, spend a couple of hours diving into my coursework, and then head out to discover a new food joint. During this time, I learned so much more about him, and our bond grew stronger with each passing day.

One of the first things I discovered was how the female teachers at our college were captivated by Rohit's hair. Mrs. Rao, in particular, was always impressed and constantly asked him about his hair care routine.

“Rohit, your hair is always so shiny and smooth,” she’d say, her eyes wide with admiration. “What products do you use? Do you follow a special diet?”

Rohit would smile modestly and explain that it was mostly genetics and some careful maintenance.

“Oh, come on, there has to be more to it!” Mrs. Rao would insist, jotting down notes as if she were conducting an interview.

One memorable incident occurred in the staff room when Rohit was alone, taking a break between classes. He had let his hair down, enjoying the brief respite from the bun he usually wore.

Mrs. Rao walked in and stopped in her tracks. “Oh my goodness, Rohit! Your hair is gorgeous when it’s down!”
Rohit looked up, startled. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Rao. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She walked over, her eyes fixated on his long, silky hair that cascaded over his shoulders and nearly reached the floor as he sat. “This is incredible! You should wear it down all the time. It looks so good, so feminine but in a worth-it way.”

Rohit chuckled nervously. “I’m not sure that’s practical for teaching, Mrs. Rao.”

“Nonsense! Just imagine the students’ reactions. They’d be captivated, just like I am,” she said with a wink.
He laughed it off, but the scene stuck with me when he told me about it during one of our dinner outings. We were sitting in a cozy restaurant, enjoying some delicious pasta, when he recounted the story.

I burst out laughing, nearly spilling my drink. “Oh my God, Rohit! Mrs. Rao is obsessed with your hair. That’s hilarious!”

Rohit laughed along, shaking his head. “She really is. I didn’t know what to say. She just kept going on about it.”

“Why don’t you wear your hair down, though?” I asked, still chuckling. “You look so pretty with your hair down. Remember when I saw you with that braid? It was so beautiful.”

He smiled, a bit shyly. “I guess it’s just easier to keep it up in a bun. It’s more practical and less distracting for the students.”

“But wouldn’t the students get used to it? I think they’d love it,” I argued, leaning forward. “It would make you stand out even more. And honestly, it looks amazing.”

He seemed to consider my words, his fingers absently playing with the end of his ponytail. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” I said firmly. “You should give it a try. Maybe just one day a week or something.”

Rohit nodded, still unsure. “I’ll think about it. It’s just… I don’t know, it feels like a big change.”

I reached across the table and touched his hand lightly. We both froze, realizing our hands were touching. A shy, embarrassed smile spread across both our faces.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But just know that I—and probably a lot of other people—think you look fantastic with your hair down,” I said, my voice softer.

He smiled, his eyes softening. “Thanks, Neha. That means a lot.”

During these two weeks, I also learned that Rohit had only been in the city for four months and hadn't had the chance to explore much due to his workload. He told me hilarious stories about his first days at the college and how the other teachers reacted when they saw him.

Rohit also shared the story of when he first met his colleagues at the college. “When I first walked into the staff room, everyone went silent. They were all staring at my hair,” he said, chuckling.

“What did they say?” I asked, intrigued.

“One of the teachers, Mr. Patel, finally spoke up. He said, ‘Is this a joke? Are you really a teacher here?’” Rohit recalled, laughing. “I just smiled and introduced myself.”

“And then what happened?” I prompted.

“Mrs. Rao jumped in and said, ‘Oh, leave him alone, Patel. His hair is amazing! We should be asking for his hair care tips, not questioning his qualifications.’”

I laughed along with Rohit, imagining the scene. “That must have been so awkward!”

“It was, but it broke the ice. They’ve been really nice since then,” he said, smiling.

We also encountered some hilarious and embarrassing incidents during our outings. One evening, at a dessert café, the waiter looked at Rohit and said, "Ma'am, would you like to try our special cheesecake?"

Rohit couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not a ma’am, but sure, I’ll have the cheesecake.”

Another time, while we were at a street food stall, a little girl tugged on Rohit's sleeve and asked, “Excuse me, aunty, can you help me find my mom?”

He bent down with a gentle smile. “I’m not an aunty, but I’ll help you find your mom.”

Then, there was the evening at a trendy new restaurant. The hostess handed Rohit a menu and said, “Here you go, ma’am.”

Rohit sighed and took the menu. “Thank you. At least they think I have good taste,” he said, winking at me.
Each of these incidents made me laugh, but they also made me appreciate Rohit’s sense of humor and his ability to handle awkward situations with grace.

As we continued our study sessions and dinners, we grew more comfortable with each other. Our conversations flowed naturally, and we shared more about our lives and dreams. I learned that Rohit loved Chinese food and used to go out for Chinese with Shruti a lot. It was one of their favorite cuisines, and talking about it always brought a smile to his face.

Then on a Sunday afternoon, I was listening to some songs when I surprisingly received a message from Rohit sir. He wrote, "Hey Neha, can we meet at Café Bliss in an hour? I need some help."

This shocked me a bit because we don't usually have study sessions on Sundays, and it was unexpected to be meeting in a café. My heart raced with curiosity and a bit of worry.

I quickly replied, "Sure, I'll be there."

I dressed casually but neatly, considering we were going to a café. As I made my way to the café, my mind buzzed with questions. Why did he want to meet? Why today? And why at a café?

Arriving at Café Bliss, I was welcomed by the sweet aroma of coffee and the nostalgic music playing softly in the background. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with the hum of quiet conversations filling the air. The waitress guided me to a cozy spot by the window.

"Can I get you anything while you wait?" she asked with a friendly smile.

"Just some water for now. I'm waiting for someone," I replied, glancing around for any sign of Rohit.

Rohit, or rather, Rohit sir, was running late as usual. To pass the time, I took out my smartphone and earphones from my bag and started watching a movie on Netflix. I got so engrossed in the movie that when I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard my name, "Neha," I didn't immediately look up.

Without looking away from my screen, I told him, "Sit down, and you better have a good excuse for keeping me waiting for almost half an hour."

I saw him put a mask on the table as he removed it. Finally, I lifted my eyes, and my jaw dropped. Rohit was wearing twin braids! Perfectly braided twin braids that reached well past his shoulders, almost to his knees. And he looked exceptionally well-dressed, wearing a stylish jacket and jeans.

Rohit in Twin Braids.

My eyes widened, and I struggled to find my voice. He sat down slowly, and while he started apologizing for being late due to construction work near his home, my attention was entirely on his appearance. I had heard about him wearing twin braids, but seeing it in person was a different story.

The twin braids, thick and perfectly braided with a straight middle parting, framed his face beautifully. The straight line of the parting added a touch of elegance and sophistication to the look. He looked like a young, pretty girl, and yet the braids suited him so well. It was awe-inspiring, and I understood why his sister might have insisted on this hairstyle.

My emotions were a whirlwind of awe, admiration, and a tinge of jealousy. Awe at how gorgeous he looked, admiration for his confidence in wearing such a feminine hairstyle, and jealousy because I could never pull off braids like he did. The middle partition was so precise, highlighting the symmetry of his face. The braids themselves were thick and glossy, cascading down his shoulders with an effortless grace.

I tried to compose myself as much as possible. Just then, the waitress returned and asked, "What do you ladies want?"

Before I could correct her, Rohit gave the order. "Two coffees and a chocolate cake, please."

I like sweet things, and he knew that, but the waitress seemed a bit confused and went back to the kitchen. I couldn't help but think, "What is going on?"

After calming down a bit, the waitress arrived with our coffee and cake. She still seemed a bit in a trance looking at Rohit, which made me chuckle inwardly. I took a sip of the coffee, feeling its warmth spread through me and help settle my nerves.

"Sorry, you really caught me off guard," I said, trying to ease the tension.

Rohit looked at me with a hint of concern. "Does it look bad? Do I look too much like a girl?"

I shook my head, smiling reassuringly. "No, Rohit, they look gorgeous. It suits you so well. I've always said you look better with your hair fully displayed. You’ve always had an androgynous look, and I don't think looking like a girl is a problem. In fact, I think the waitress is still trying to figure it out."

Rohit let out a breath he seemed to be holding. "Thanks, Neha. I was worried you'd be mad or think it was weird. And when I saw you staring at me like that, I got really nervous."

I smiled warmly, wanting to reassure him further. "It's just that I only knew about the twin braids from your story. I had never seen you wearing them in person. I was in awe, but I figured there must be a reason you wore them today. And you did wear a mask, after all."

Rohit sighed softly, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. "Today is Shruti's birthday. She always loved seeing me in twin braids. It was her favourite hairstyle on me. So, every year on her birthday, I wear them to celebrate her memory."

I could see the sadness and happiness in his eyes as he spoke, a bittersweet smile on his face. The weight of his words hung in the air, and I felt a deep empathy for him.

"That's incredibly sweet, Rohit," I said softly, my heart aching for him. "It's a beautiful way to honor her memory."

He looked at me, a grateful smile forming. "Thanks, Neha. It means a lot to hear that from you."

"Did you tie them yourself?" I asked, unable to hide the curiosity and admiration in my voice.

Rohit nodded, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, I did."

I was genuinely impressed. "It must have taken some time. Can I see them properly?"

He seemed a bit taken aback by my request but nodded again. "Sure."

Rohit stood up slowly, adjusting the braids so they lay neatly over his shoulders. I stood up as well, eager to get a closer look. The braids were thick and intricate, falling gracefully from his shoulders down to his thighs, with the ends reaching his knees. I was struck by how perfectly they were done, the middle parting so precise it looked like it had been drawn with a ruler.

"Wow, they're beautiful," I said, my voice filled with genuine awe. "Do you mind if I touch them?"

Rohit, knowing about my mom's profession and how knowledgeable I was in hairstyling, nodded shyly. "Go ahead."

I took one of the braids in my hands, feeling the silky smoothness of his hair. The ends were tied with a cute blue band that matched his jeans. "This is incredible," I said softly, my fingers gently tracing the braid. "They're so perfectly done."

Rohit blushed a little, clearly not used to this kind of attention. "Thanks. It took some practice."
I looked up, studying how the braids framed his face, the middle parting giving him a cute and elegant look.

"Turn around, please," I requested, wanting to see the parting more closely.

Rohit Twin Braids Partition.

He turned around, and I admired the flawlessly straight line from the front of his hairline to the back of his neck. It was impressive. Realizing that I was touching his hair for the first time made me feel a bit embarrassed, too. "The parting is perfect," I murmured, more to myself than to him.

We both sat down, the air between us charged with a mix of shyness and something deeper. "You really have a talent for this," I said, trying to ease the tension with a compliment.

Rohit smiled, his eyes meeting mine with a warmth that made my heart flutter. "I'm glad you think so."

For a moment, we just looked at each other, the silence comfortable and filled with unspoken words. My thoughts were a whirlwind of admiration and a growing affection for him. I couldn't help but think about how much effort and patience it must take to maintain such beautiful hair, and how confident he was to wear it in such a unique style.

"Your hair is truly amazing, Rohit," I said, my voice soft. "And you look incredible with it in braids."

He blushed again, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Neha. It means a lot coming from you."

After a bit of silence, I gathered the courage to ask him what he needed help with. "So, what's the help you need?"

Rohit took a deep breath, his eyes showing a mix of hesitation and determination. "As I told you, today is Shruti's birthday. On every birthday, my mom and I go out in the evening to have dinner at a nice place to celebrate her."

I nodded, feeling a pang of empathy. "Oh, do you want to know a good place for dinner? I might know some..."

I started to take out my phone to look up some options, but he cut me off gently.
"Ahh no, I have it all planned out," he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, so..." I trailed off, not sure what he was getting at.

"I want you to join us for dinner," he said, his voice soft but sincere.

I was taken aback, shocked by his request. "What? Why me? I don't even know your mom."

He explained patiently, "Every year, we invite Shruti's friends to join us for dinner, but this time, my mom is visiting here, and I really want you to come."

"But I didn't even know your sister," I protested, feeling a mix of confusion and anxiety.

"I told my mom about you, and she really wants to meet you," Rohit said, his eyes earnest.

I was still unsure and felt a knot of worry forming in my stomach at the thought of meeting his mother. "I don't know, Rohit... I'm not sure if it's a good idea."

"Please, Neha. I don't want my mom to see me alone tonight," he pleaded, his voice filled with genuine concern. The sincerity in his eyes and his cute, worried expression made it impossible for me to refuse.

"Alright, I'll come," I said, giving in.

His face lit up with happiness. "Thank you! This means so much to me."

"But!" I said, holding up a finger. He looked at me, curiosity evident on his face. "I have two conditions that you have to promise to fulfill."

"Sure, I'll do whatever is possible," he replied eagerly.

"Okay, the first condition is that from tomorrow onwards, you have to wear your hair down in college. No buns," I stated firmly.

"WHAT? BUT..." he started to protest, but I cut him off.

"No buts, or I won't come tonight!" I said sternly.

He hesitated, clearly thinking it over. "I'm not telling you to wear it completely loose. You can tie it in a braid or a ponytail."

He sighed, realizing he had no choice. "Okay, okay, I'll do it."

"Promise me," I insisted.

"I promise. Now, what's your second request?" he asked, a bit wary.

"That's for another time," I said with a mischievous smile.

"Okay, so you will come, right?" he confirmed, relief washing over his face.

"Yes," I nodded.

He reached out and held my hand, a gesture that sent a shiver down my spine. "Thank you, Neha. This means a lot to me," he said softly.

I felt my cheeks warm up, a bit shy but touched by his gratitude. "You're welcome, Rohit," I replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before we both let go, the moment lingering between us.

As we finished our conversation and started to gather our things, the waitress came over, looking a bit flustered. "Excuse me," she said, addressing Rohit, "I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding earlier. I thought you were a girl. But I have to say, your hair is absolutely stunning! It looks just like those long-haired girl models on Instagram."
Rohit smiled politely, a hint of shyness in his expression. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

We walked out of the café, and as we reached the door, Rohit turned to me. "So, we'll meet at 7 PM at The Olive Garden. I'll be waiting for you there."

"Got it. I'll be there," I assured him.

"Great, see you then," he said with a warm smile.

"See you," I replied, watching as he walked away, his twin braids swaying gently with each step.

I made my way back to my room, my mind racing with thoughts about the evening ahead. Meeting Rohit's mom felt like a big step, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. As I entered my room, I took a deep breath, determined to make a good impression.

Only three hours were left, and I still wasn't sure what to wear. I paced back and forth in my room, trying to imagine what Rohit's mom might like. Would she prefer something traditional? Casual? I finally decided on a pretty dress, something elegant yet comfortable—a deep blue dress with a flattering silhouette that reached just above my knees. It seemed like a safe choice, sophisticated yet not too formal.

As I stood in front of the mirror, I realized my hair needed to match the effort I was putting into my outfit. My straight, waist-length hair deserved to be shown off. I decided to wear it down, meticulously brushing it until it shone. To add a touch of professionalism, I parted it to the side and used a straightener to ensure it looked sleek. I then applied minimal makeup—just enough to enhance my features without making it look like I was trying too hard. A bit of foundation, some mascara, and a soft pink lipstick. Perfect.

I took a deep breath, stepping back to survey my look in the mirror. I felt a wave of nervousness wash over me. Meeting Rohit's mom felt significant, like I was being invited into a part of his life that was very personal and important.

With a final glance in the mirror, I grabbed my purse and headed out. On the way to the restaurant, my mind was racing. What if she didn't like me? What if I said something wrong? What if I embarrassed Rohit in front of his mom? I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. I reminded myself that Rohit had invited me because he wanted me there. That had to mean something, right?

As I walked, I couldn't help but think about the significance of this dinner. Meeting someone's family was always a big deal, but this felt even more intense. It wasn't just any dinner; it was a special occasion to remember his sister, Shruti. I wanted to make a good impression, to show that I respected their traditions and their memories.
I arrived at The Olive Garden, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension. My palms were sweaty, and my heart was pounding. I took a deep breath and walked in, determined to make this evening memorable for all the right reasons.

I arrived at the restaurant by cab, stepping out carefully to avoid wrinkling my dress. As I approached the entrance, I spotted Rohit waiting for me. He was dressed in a sleek black shirt and white trousers, his twin braids hanging down to his knees. The braids added a feminine touch to his look, but somehow they suited him perfectly, complementing his attire in a way I couldn't quite express.

"Neha! Over here!" Rohit called out, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and warmth.

My heart fluttered as I walked towards him. As I got closer, I noticed the way his eyes widened slightly, taking in my appearance.

"You look... stunning," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

Blushing, I felt a warm glow spread through me. "Thank you, Rohit. You look really... handsome and pretty."

He smiled, clearly pleased. "Thanks. I’m glad you think so. My mom is inside, waiting for us. Are you ready?"
I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yes, let's go."

He led the way, holding the door open for me. As we entered the restaurant, the ambiance struck me immediately—soft lighting, the gentle hum of conversation, and the tantalizing aroma of delicious food. I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement, hoping to make a good impression.

Rohit guided me to a table near the window where a woman was sitting, looking expectantly in our direction. She had a warm, welcoming smile that put me at ease immediately.

"Mom, this is Neha," Rohit introduced. "Neha, this is my mom."

I smiled warmly, extending my hand. "It's so nice to meet you, Aunty."

Just by looking at her, I could tell why Rohit looked so much like her. Even if she was in her 50s, she looked young and mature. Rohit clearly got his hair thickness from her. Her hair, which looked like it was down to her back, looked very healthy like Rohit's.

Aunty stood up and shook my hand gently. "I've heard so much about you, Neha. Thank you for joining us tonight."

"It's my pleasure, Aunty," I replied, feeling a bit more relaxed. "Rohit has told me a lot about you as well."

"Rohit tells me you're quite the student," her tone friendly and curious. "How are your studies going?"

I smiled, feeling the warmth in her voice. "They're going well, thank you. Rohit has been a great help with the subjects I struggle with."

Rohit chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Neha is being modest. She's one of the brightest students I've ever met."

I felt my cheeks heat up again. "You're too kind, Rohit."

We shared a laugh, easing into the conversation. The tension I'd felt earlier began to melt away, replaced by a sense of belonging.

As dinner progressed, we talked about various things. I shared stories about my life, and Rohit reminisced about his college days and his experiences since moving to the city. Aunty listened intently, occasionally adding her own anecdotes and insights.

At one point, I couldn't help but mention, "You know, Rohit, your hair always gets a lot of attention. I've seen some of the female teachers asking you about your hair routine."

Rohit laughed, glancing at his mom. "Yeah, that's true. Mrs. Rao once saw me with my hair down when I was alone in the staff room. She was captivated and asked me a lot of questions, suggesting I should always wear it down because it looked so good. It was quite the scene."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "I can imagine. Rohit has always had a bit of a fan club because of his hair."

Suddenly, Rohit's phone buzzed. "I need to take this call," he said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

As Rohit stepped outside, I found myself alone with Aunty. The initial tension returned for a moment, but her gentle smile quickly put me at ease again.

"Neha, can I ask you something?" Her voice was gentle.

"Of course," I replied, curious.

"Is my son happy here? Is he okay?" she asked with concern.

I was a bit confused. "Why do you ask?"

She sighed softly. "Rohit may seem confident on the outside, but he's quite sensitive on the inside. He's even more sensitive than Shruti was." Her eyes grew distant as she recalled a memory. "I remember once, when he was little, he found a stray kitten in the rain. He brought it home, soaking wet, and insisted we take care of it. He stayed up all night to make sure it was warm and fed. That’s how he is, always caring deeply."

Touched by her words, I assured her, "Rohit is doing well. He's made a lot of progress since he came here. And I promise to look after him."

She smiled, relief evident in her eyes. "Thank you, Neha. I can tell you care about him."

After dinner, as we were ready to leave, Rohit’s mom once again thanked me for coming and reminded Rohit of his promise. Then Rohit asked for some alone time with me. His mom sat in the cab, waiting patiently.

"Thank you for coming tonight, Neha," Rohit said, his voice soft. "It meant a lot to me and my mom."
"I'm glad I could be here," I replied sincerely.

He looked at me, a hint of shyness in his eyes. "I need to ask for your help with something."

I smiled, feeling a sense of anticipation. "What is it?"

"Remember your condition for tomorrow?" he asked, looking a bit nervous.

I laughed softly, teasing him. "Yes, I do. Are you ready to fulfill it?"

He nodded, his expression serious. "I'll do it. I promise."

As I was getting ready for college, my mind kept drifting back to last night’s dinner with Rohit and his mom. The way Rohit had looked in his braids, the confidence he had shown, it was still so surreal. I smiled to myself, thinking about his nervousness and how much he had opened up.

My phone buzzed, breaking my thoughts. It was Rohit.

“Hey, Hi Neha, umm can you meet me at the garden near the college?” he asked, his voice a bit hesitant.
“But sir, it’s time for college!” I replied, confused.

“Please, we will go together.”

His request was unexpected, but I could sense the urgency in his voice. “Alright, I’ll be there,” I said, a bit worried but curious.

I reached the garden a few minutes later, scanning the area for Rohit. Just as I was about to call him, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Neha!”

I turned around to see Rohit standing there, looking a bit nervous. He was in formal attire, his long hair tied in a single, elegant braid that reached his knees. I couldn’t help but smile.

Rohit wearing a braid.

“Rohit, you kept your promise! You look amazing!” I exclaimed, genuinely happy to see him like this.
“Yeah, that’s why I called you. I’m kinda nervous about going to college like this,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head.

“What? Why? Yesterday you wore twin braids, which were even more feminine. So why are you nervous now?” I asked, puzzled.

“There were no students yesterday,” he replied, his voice trailing off.

I laughed softly. “Every student knows and can guess how long your hair is, Rohit. You look great, and you should be proud. Just be yourself.”

He looked at me, a mix of doubt and determination in his eyes. “You really think so?”

“Yes, I do. Your braid looks so graceful, and it suits you perfectly,” I said, my voice soft but encouraging.
After a moment of silence, he nodded. “Okay, let’s do this.”

We walked towards the college together, his braid swaying with each step. I couldn’t help but admire how beautifully it was tied, the way it fell so gracefully over his shoulder. As we approached the college gates, I could see the students starting to gather. I squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Come on, Rohit. You’ve got this.”

He smiled at me, a newfound confidence in his eyes. “Thanks, Neha. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
As we walked through the gates, I could feel his nervousness melting away, replaced by a determined smile. The journey to class was silent, yet filled with an unspoken understanding between us. I was glad to be there, supporting him as we faced the day together.

As I watched Rohit walk ahead of me, I could tell he was still a bit nervous despite the confident strides. His thick braid swung gracefully with each step, and I couldn't help but giggle. From behind, he looked more like a lady with his hair like that, but that’s what I loved about him. The juxtaposition of his masculine form and feminine hairstyle was uniquely Rohit, and it made me smile.

When he walked into college, at first, the students didn't recognize him. Then, one by one, the realization dawned on them, and soon everyone knew it was Rohit sir. I watched their reactions closely. The initial shock was palpable—students stared, mouths agape. Some girls even forgot to say good morning, simply standing there, stunned.

I could hear their whispers as he walked by: “Is that Rohit sir?” “Wow, look at his braid!” “I never knew his hair was that long!” “He looks so cool!” “Oh my God, his hair is gorgeous!”

One girl said, “His hair looks like a girl I follow on Instagram. Feminine guys are so popular now!”

The comments were all positive, some even funny, which made me incredibly happy. It was as if a wave of admiration swept through the hallways, and it was clear Rohit’s appearance had left a strong impression.
When we reached the hallway, Rohit turned to look at me and nodded, silently telling me he could handle it from here. I smiled back, giving him a thumbs-up before heading to my class. As I sat on my bench, I could hear the buzz of excitement among the girls. They were all talking about Rohit.

“He looked like a movie star with that braid!” “Can you believe it’s knee-length?” “I need to know his hair care routine.”

A minute later, Katrina came running in, her face lit up with excitement. “Hey! Did you see Rohit sir? Oh my God, his hair! I knew it was long, but holy knee-length! And did you see his braid? It was beautiful, so healthy, thick, and it was literally shining in the sunlight. How did he grow his hair so well?”

I laughed at her enthusiasm. “Girl, calm down!” I said, trying to hold back my own excitement.

“But seriously, Neha,” she continued, “I’m so jealous. His hair looks like something out of a shampoo commercial. How does he do it?”

I shrugged, smiling. “I guess it’s just good genes and a lot of care. He’s always been particular about his hair, you know.”

Katrina nodded, still in awe. “Well, whatever he’s doing, it’s working. I need to get some tips from him.”

The morning continued with a lively energy, everyone buzzing about Rohit’s new look. It was refreshing and fun to see everyone so animated, and I was proud of Rohit for facing his nerves and embracing his unique style. As the day progressed, I couldn’t wait to catch up with him and see how he was handling all the attention.

It was the last class of the day, and everyone seemed exhausted, but as soon as Rohit sir entered with his braid swinging behind him, the atmosphere changed completely. Seeing him with that braid was both shocking and wonderful for everyone. His braid still looked as fresh as it did in the morning, glistening and perfectly in place. The students’-tired faces lit up, and they started asking questions and complimenting him.

“Oh my gosh, sir, your hair looks amazing!” “Is it hard to maintain such long hair?” “I wish my hair looked that good!”

Katrina, sitting next to me, couldn’t take her eyes off him. “Damn, I can't get enough of his hair. It's so good. Just how did he maintain it so properly?”

I smiled, responding naturally, “I think he just takes really good care of it. He’s always been particular about his hair.”

Katrina continued, “Still, as a boy, his hair is more beautiful than most girls’. And he tied it so perfectly. He must have practiced a lot.”

I nodded, “Yeah, he’s definitely put in the effort. It shows.”

Katrina then added, “You know, even though he looks like a girl with his androgynous face, the hair suits him so perfectly. It's like long hair was made for him.”

I chuckled, “It really does suit him. It’s a unique look that he totally owns.”

As I observed the scene, I thought about how confident Rohit seemed now compared to earlier. His braid, a symbol of his courage to be himself, was drawing admiration and curiosity, not ridicule. I felt proud of him for embracing his individuality so boldly.

After class, Rohit looked at me, smiled, and nodded. Katrina seemed to notice this, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Did you see that?” she whispered to me. “He nodded at you.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, we’ve been talking a bit more lately. He’s a really interesting person.”
Katrina smirked, “Interesting, huh? Well, you’re lucky. He’s got the whole college buzzing.”

As we packed up our things, I couldn’t help but feel a bit shy but happy. Rohit’s nod was a small, reassuring gesture that reminded me of our growing closeness. It was nice to know that amidst all the attention, he still acknowledged our bond. And I couldn’t wait to see where it would lead next.

After college, Katrina was bursting with curiosity about my relationship with Rohit.

“Neha, what’s the deal with you and Rohit sir?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with interest.

I laughed nervously, trying to dodge the question. “Oh, Katrina, it’s nothing really. Just...you know, casual conversations.”

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Casual conversations? Come on, spill the beans!”

I glanced at my watch dramatically and gasped. “Oh no, I’m going to be late for my part-time work!”
“Hey, don’t try to escape!” she called after me.

“Sorry, I’ll tell you everything later, I promise!” I said, waving as I started to walk away quickly.
“You better!” Katrina shouted, laughing. “I’m holding you to that!”

I turned and grinned at her. “Deal! Catch you later!”

With that, I made my escape, feeling a mix of relief and amusement. Katrina’s curiosity would have to wait, and I was glad for the temporary reprieve.

At work now, I couldn’t help but replay the day’s events in my mind. From the surprising morning message to the moment when Rohit walked confidently into college with his knee-length braid swinging behind him. The way the students reacted, their wide eyes and stunned expressions, echoed in my thoughts.

I wondered how he felt about today’s experience. Did he feel more confident now? Was he still nervous? I wanted to ask him so many questions, to know his thoughts and feelings about stepping into college with his hair down for the first time. But I’d have to wait until tomorrow during our session.

I found myself glancing at the clock, counting down the hours until I could see him again. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough. The anticipation of our next meeting filled me with a sense of excitement and curiosity. I wanted to hear about his experience, his thoughts, and maybe share a few laughs about the day’s events.

For now, I’d focus on my work, but my mind was already drifting to tomorrow, eager for the moment when I’d get to see Rohit again and delve into the story of his day with that beautiful braid.

After work, I was just about to leave when I saw Rohit walking towards me. I was surprised to see him there, especially in casual clothes with his hair still in that impressive braid. He looked so different outside of the college environment, more relaxed and approachable.

“Rohit!” I exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled warmly. “I know where you work, remember? I thought I’d stop by and see if you were free for a bit.”
I was touched by the gesture and nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Let’s go somewhere nice.”

We ended up at a nearby restaurant, a cozy place with a warm atmosphere. We ordered some tea and snacks, and as we settled into our seats, I could feel the day’s stress melting away.

“First, I want to thank you for today,” Rohit began, his eyes sincere. “It was because of you that I wore a braid to college.”

I felt a warm glow of happiness at his words. “Rohit, you did all the hard work. I just gave you a little push. You looked amazing, and the students clearly thought so too.”

He nodded, looking a bit shy. “Well, I was really nervous at first. But seeing everyone’s reactions helped. You were right; they were curious and supportive. Even in the staffroom, it was interesting.”

I leaned in, eager to hear more. “What happened in the staffroom?”

Rohit chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with the memory. “Mrs. Rao was the first to notice. She came right up to me, eyes wide, and said, ‘Rohit, you look absolutely wonderful! I’ve always known you had beautiful hair, but this is something else.’”

I laughed, imagining the scene. “I can totally picture that. She’s always so enthusiastic.”

He nodded. “Yes, and she wasn’t the only one. Many of the female teachers were surprised. They kept complimenting me, asking how I maintain my hair and how long it took to grow. It was overwhelming but in a good way.”

I could see the pride and relief in his eyes, and it made me incredibly happy. “I’m so glad it went well. You deserve all the compliments, Rohit. Your hair is beautiful, and today you showed everyone just how special it is.”

He smiled, looking a bit bashful. “Thanks, Neha. I really got my confidence back today. I was so nervous this morning, but you were right. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

I reached out and squeezed his hand gently. “I’m proud of you. It takes a lot of courage to do something like that.”

Rohit looked down at our joined hands, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve been such a good friend.”

I blushed, feeling a mix of emotions. “I’m just happy I could help.”

We spent the next hour chatting about the day, our tea and snacks forgotten as we got lost in conversation. Rohit told me more about the staffroom, how even the usually stern Mrs. Kapoor had a smile for him. It was clear that today had been a turning point for him, and I was grateful to have been a part of it.

As we walked back, I realized how much closer we had become. Today had been a significant step, not just for Rohit but for our friendship as well. And as we said our goodbyes, I couldn’t help but feel excited about what the future held for both of us.

Since then, Rohit had become quite comfortable wearing his hair in various styles at our all-girls college. Thanks to my encouragement, he often sported a ponytail or a braid, and he even started parting his hair in the middle, just as I had suggested. The students frequently complimented him on his different hairstyles, which made him feel more confident.

One day, during a class that ended a bit early, some students gathered around Rohit, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

"Sir, can you untie your ponytail? We want to see your hair down," one of the students asked, their eyes wide with anticipation.

Rohit hesitated for a moment, glancing at me for reassurance. I gave him an encouraging nod, a smile playing on my lips. With a shy smile of his own, he reached up and began to untie his high ponytail. The room buzzed with excitement as his long, thick hair cascaded down his back, reaching his knees. The sunlight streaming through the windows made his hair shine like a halo, and the students gasped in awe.

Rohit with his hair down.

"Wow, sir, your hair is amazing!"

"How do you maintain it so well?"

"You look like a model, sir!"

Rohit chuckled, brushing a strand behind his ear. "Thank you. It's a lot of care and patience."

One of the bolder students chimed in, "Sir, you should be in shampoo commercials!"

The class erupted in laughter, and even Rohit couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe in another life," he replied, shaking his head.

Another student, quick with a compliment, exclaimed, "Sir, your hair is better than mine! Can you give me some tips?"

Rohit smiled, his usual reserve melting away in the friendly atmosphere. "Sure. It's all about using the right products and not skipping on conditioner. And a good diet helps too."

Another student teased, "Sir, if teaching doesn't work out, you have a backup career in hair care!"

The laughter continued, filling the room with a joyful energy. I watched the scene unfold with a warm smile, feeling proud of how far Rohit had come in embracing his unique style. He was no longer the shy teacher who hid behind his hair; he was now confident, engaging, and comfortable in his own skin.

"Sir, can we take a picture with your hair down?" a student asked, holding up her phone.

Rohit looked a bit taken aback but nodded. "Alright, but just one."

The students quickly gathered around him, and I joined in, wanting to capture the moment. As the camera clicked, I couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness and pride. This was a moment of victory, not just for Rohit, but for all of us who had supported him.

As the students dispersed, still chattering excitedly, Rohit began to tie his hair back up. "Thanks for the encouragement, Neha," he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine.

"Anytime, Rohit," I replied, smiling. "You looked great. They really love your hair."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd be this comfortable with it. But I'm glad I took the leap."

"I'm glad too," I said, feeling a warmth spread through me. "You deserve all the compliments."

With that, we gathered our things and headed out of the classroom, the echoes of laughter and joy still ringing in our ears. It was a day to remember, a day that marked another step forward in our journey together.

Later that day, Katrina caught up with me in the hallway. She looked intrigued, her eyes darting between me and the direction Rohit had gone. "Hey, Neha," she called out, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

"Hey, Katrina," I replied, smiling.

"So, what's going on between you and Rohit sir?" she asked, her tone playful yet serious. "I saw you two talking a lot. Spill the beans!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Nothing like that, Katrina. We're just friends. We have study sessions together."
"Study sessions?" Katrina raised an eyebrow. "Is that code for something else?"

I laughed, knowing she was just teasing. "No, really. He helps me with my studies, and I help him with...well, getting comfortable with his hair and stuff."

Katrina looked thoughtful. "That sounds nice. But there has to be more to it. You seem really close."

"We are," I admitted. "But it's just a good friendship. He's a great teacher and a good friend."

Katrina nodded, seemingly satisfied for the moment. "Alright, but I'm keeping an eye on you two."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Sure, Katrina. You do that."

Our friendship continued to deepen as Rohit and I spent more time together. We started going out for shopping, movies, and even trying new hairstyles. One day, while we were out shopping, we decided to grab a bite to eat. As we sat at a small café, I noticed how frequently Rohit got mistaken for a girl.

A little girl with her mom walked by, and the girl pointed at Rohit, tugging at her mom's sleeve. "Mom, can I have my hair like hers?" she asked, her eyes wide with admiration. Rohit was wearing a long French braid that day, and it did look stunning.

The mom smiled awkwardly, trying to steer her daughter away. "That's not a girl, sweetie," she whispered, glancing at Rohit with a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

Rohit just smiled politely, not letting it bother him. "It's alright," he said softly. "I get that a lot."

I couldn't help but admire his composure. "You handle that so well," I said, sipping my coffee.

He shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I've gotten used to it. Besides, it's just hair. It doesn't define who I am."

We continued to chat and enjoy our time together, and I taught him a few more hairstyles. He was a quick learner, and it was fun to see him experiment with different looks. Despite the occasional misunderstandings, Rohit never let it affect his confidence.

As we grew closer, it became clear that we both liked each other. There was a mutual respect and understanding that went beyond our student-teacher relationship. However, we were both careful to maintain boundaries, knowing the importance of keeping things professional.

My grades improved significantly thanks to our study sessions. Rohit's patient teaching and encouragement made a huge difference, and I felt more confident in my abilities.

One day, after another successful study session, we decided to go for a walk in the park. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the landscape. We walked in comfortable silence, enjoying the peaceful evening.
"Neha," Rohit said suddenly, breaking the silence. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."
I looked at him, curious. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath, his expression serious yet hopeful. "I really enjoy spending time with you. You've become an important part of my life."

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words. "I feel the same way, Rohit. Our friendship means a lot to me."
He smiled, relief evident in his eyes. "I'm glad to hear that."

Some days later, In the hallway, as I was making my way to class, I overheard some teachers gossiping about Rohit. I quickly found a hiding spot and listened in, unable to ignore my curiosity.

"Did you see Rohit's hair today?" one teacher snickered.

"Yeah, he's always keeping it in a braid like us. It's ridiculous," another one chimed in.
"He looks so much like a girl. He might as well wear girls' clothes from tomorrow," a third one added with a mean laugh.

"Even if he doesn't, he still looks like a lady. It's like he wants to be a woman," the first teacher continued.

"Being a male with long hair like that, he must want to be a woman," said another with a sneer.
"He's probably more comfortable looking like a lady," they concluded, their voices dripping with derision.

My heart sank as I recognized one of the voices—Mrs. Bajaj. She was one of the most infamous teachers in the college. Mrs. Bajaj had taught us in our first year, and she was horrendous. Always scolding, always forcing her opinions on others, she held old-school views on how males and females should behave. The only reason she had a job here was that her mother used to be the old principal.

Mrs. Bajaj was notorious for her strictness and outdated views. She believed men should be masculine and women should be feminine, with no room for deviation. Her teaching style was harsh, often humiliating students who didn't conform to her standards.

I remember one incident vividly. During a school event, Priya, a student, gave a presentation on gender equality. It was insightful and challenged traditional gender roles. But Mrs. Bajaj interrupted her, berating Priya in front of everyone for promoting "nonsense" and accusing her of disrespecting cultural values. Priya was left in tears, and the entire audience was shocked.

Since then, students and even many teachers despised Mrs. Bajaj. Her rigid beliefs and uncompromising attitude made her a difficult person to work with.

Hearing these comments about Rohit hurt me deeply. I knew how much effort he had put into becoming comfortable with his hair and his style. It was part of who he was, and seeing him embrace it had been inspiring. These teachers' cruel remarks were not only disrespectful but also completely unfounded. Rohit was one of the kindest, most genuine people I knew, and their narrow-mindedness made me angry.

I wanted to step out and confront them, to defend Rohit, but I knew that it wouldn't change their minds. Instead, I took a deep breath and resolved to support Rohit even more. He didn't deserve this kind of treatment, and I would do everything in my power to make sure he knew that he was valued and appreciated for who he was.

I walked to my class, my mind racing with thoughts of what I had just heard. I felt a mix of anger, sadness, and determination. Rohit didn't deserve to be treated this way, and I needed to find a way to support him without making things worse.

As I entered the classroom, I took a deep breath and forced a smile. I knew that I had to stay strong, not just for Rohit but for myself too. We would get through this, and I would do everything I could to help him feel confident and proud of who he was.

I couldn’t shake off what I overheard, and it must have shown on my face because Katrina noticed immediately.
“What’s wrong, Neha?” she asked, concerned.

I hesitated, not sure how to explain without revealing too much. “I just overheard some teachers saying mean things about Rohit,” I finally said. “It’s really bothering me.”

Katrina’s expression hardened. “What did they say?”

“They were making fun of his hair, saying he looks like a girl and even implying he wants to be a woman,” I explained, feeling my anger rising again. “It was Mrs. Bajaj and a couple of other teachers.”

Katrina sighed. “Mrs. Bajaj… No surprise there. She’s always been narrow-minded. Remember how she was in our first year?”

I nodded. “Yeah, she was awful. But it’s different now. Rohit doesn’t deserve this. He’s so kind and… he doesn’t even know they’re saying these things.”

Katrina put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “He’s lucky to have you, Neha. You’ll find a way to tell him, and he’ll appreciate your honesty. Just be there for him, like you always are.”

I smiled weakly. “Thanks, Katrina. I just hope I can handle this without making things worse for him.”
We walked to our next class, my mind racing with thoughts of how to approach Rohit about what I had overheard.

Later, when I finally met Rohit in the hallway, I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread. He was smiling, oblivious to the hurtful gossip.

“Rohit, can we talk later? It’s important,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Of course, Neha. Is everything okay?” he asked, his smile fading slightly.

I forced a smile. “Yeah, just… something we need to discuss.”

We parted ways, but I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the upcoming conversation.
As I sat in my room that evening, I knew that this talk would be a turning point. Rohit deserved to know the truth, and I had to find the right way to tell him.