Their Wonder Years: Fall 98

Chapter 194: Bharath’s Confessions

The girls exchanged a glance, their playfulness dimming into quiet attention.

He sat on the edge of the couch cushion beside them, bracing his hands on his knees.

“I’ve been thinking about something for a long time,” he began. “And I feel stupid saying it now, after everything today. But I can’t keep it inside anymore.”

Mia scooted closer. “What is it?”

He looked at all of them - these women who trusted him, who gave him their hearts and futures and bodies, who planned their lives with him in mind.

“I don’t live like it, but my family back home… we’re wealthy,” he said. “My father runs a large IT company in Chennai. A very successful one.”

He paused. Still no reaction.

“I’m his only child,” he added. “He expects me to return someday and take over.”

Still silence. No gasps. No wide eyes.

That surprised him more than anything.

“I didn’t tell you because…” he trailed off. “I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to feel pressure. Or think I was hiding wealth. The truth is… I just don’t think about it. I live the way I live because it feels right.”

Marisol leaned back on her hands, an amused smile tugging at her lips.

Sarah tilted her head. “That’s not shocking, Bharath.”

Mia looked up at him sweetly. “We know.”

He blinked. “What?”

Sarah reached over and grabbed a folded page from a spiral notebook. “Altavista. Yahoo. We found the company website. Your dad’s name is on it.”

Marisol shrugged. “Your last name is on like, three business articles online. It did take us a while to link the name to you though - given that you seem to go out of your way to hide that side of you.”

Mia giggled.

Bharath let out a slow, incredulous breath. “So… you all knew?”

“We did,” Sarah said gently. “But it doesn’t change who you are.”

“And it didn’t feel like hiding,” Marisol added. “It’s just… your nature.”

Mia smirked. “Frugal king. You have no excuses for your clothes now. They need an upgrade.”

That made him snort. “Hey! My clothes are fine.”

Marisol let out a scandalized gasp. “Fine? Mi amor, you own two pairs of jeans, three hoodies - both of which were free that you got during orientation week, a few sweaters, and a fleet of white undershirts that look like they were passed down from Gandhi himself.”

“Hey! Gandhi never wore undershirts and my undershirts are comfy!” he protested. “Classic fit! Timeless..”

Sarah arched an eyebrow. “So is the Roman Empire. Doesn’t mean we want to wear it.”

“It’s minimalism,” he said defensively. “It’s a vibe.”

“It’s a crime against cotton,” Marisol shot back.

He lifted his hands like a monk under siege. “I live simply. It keeps me grounded.”

“You’re grounded, alright,” Sarah said. “Like, literally - you wear the same sneakers every day. I’ve seen better treads on a school bus tire.”

Mia leaned in sweetly. “Now that you’ve come out as secretly loaded, it’s our moral responsibility to upgrade you. You’re basically a restoration project now.”

“Excuse me,” he said, mock-affronted. “This,” he gestured at himself, “is a carefully cultivated aesthetic.”

“An aesthetic that needs to be thrown into the Goodwill bin with prejudice along with your stash of Wild Stone,” Marisol declared.

Sarah gave a solemn nod. “We’ll be conducting a ceremonial burning next week.”

“Hey! That hoodie is sentimental! And don’t you dare touch my Wild Stone!”

“It’s sentient,” Mia muttered. “I swear it tried to run away last time you threw it on the couch.”

The three of them broke into laughter. Bharath tried to look wounded, but his lips were already twitching.

“I still should’ve told you,” he said, quieter now.

“You just did,” Sarah said warmly. “That’s what matters.”

He hesitated. “There’s more. I don’t know if I’ll stay in the U.S. forever. I want this. You. But my family… they expect something else.”

A beat passed.

Sarah was the first to speak. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. I told you once. I’ll say it again. You’re my forever.”

Marisol glanced at Mia, then nodded. “We talked about this while you were gone. Honestly? We don’t know yet. It’s complicated for us - especially with Mami. But we’re not going anywhere.”

Mia nodded slowly, her fingers brushing his knee. “This isn’t a now problem. We have time. And I want to be with you. Whether that’s here, there… or somewhere in between.”

He looked between them - these three hearts, offering him space, honesty, and grace.

“I thought I had to protect you from all this,” he said quietly. “From the weight of my family. My obligations.”

Marisol smiled. “You protect us by being you. Not by hiding.”

Sarah reached for his hand. “We’re not fragile, Bharath. We’re in this with you.”

Mia scooted in and leaned her head on his shoulder. “You’re stuck with us. Rich boy and all.”

He laughed. This time it reached his chest.

And when they wrapped around him again - arms and laughter and future plans - he knew, deep in the quietest part of himself, that this was a real family.

Messy. Complicated.

But not confused.