They say comfort is born slowly, step by step— but she does not notice when her own walls open for him, as if they were never there.
~~~~~
Shaamvi gently pushes him away. With trembling hands, she takes her glass and walks into her room. Her steps are unsteady, her breath fast. The door shuts softly behind her, and she leans back against it, pressing her palm to her chest. Her heart pounds so fast it feels wild, unmeasured.
What… what was that? she wonders.
In the kitchen, KaanKuwar still stands motionless, His heart hammers with the same feverish rhythm. He lifts his hand, staring at the thumb that just touched her lips.
Stanzin enters, arms full of tools. KaanKuwar pulls himself out of his trance and steps into the hallway just as Stanzin knocks at Shaamvi's door.
"Come in," she says weakly from her bed.
Stanzin enters, followed by KaanKuwar. Neither Shaamvi nor KaanKuwar dares to meet the other's eyes.
"I brought what I need for the ritual," Stanzin says "We'll hold it at dawn. I will do all the preparations overnight. You can hold until morning, can't you?"
"Yes," Shaamvi breathes, nodding.
Stanzin turns toward KaanKuwar. "You can rest till then. By the way—where are you staying?"
The word 'staying' catches both Shaamvi and KaanKuwar off guard.
"Where am I staying?" KaanKuwar murmurs softly, almost to Shaamvi.
"He will stay here," Shaamvi answers before he can speak.
Stanzin stares at her, incredulous. "What? He's not human, but he's still a male…a man. And you will let him stay here—overnight?"
"He needs to be near me," she replies calmly. Her gaze flickers to KaanKuwar. "To protect me."
Then, turning to him, she adds, "Go upstairs. There is a room on the left—you can use that. There's a washroom on that floor too. Make yourself comfortable."
She looks at Stanzin again. "Can you please do me a favour ? Just clean up that room a little, so that he could live comfortably there."
Stanzin's lips tighten, his face clearly shows disapproval, but he obeys and goes upstairs.
Night deepens. KaanKuwar climbs the stairs, uneasy. The room is quiet, decent— a queen size bed in the center, a window, a table on the side. But he cannot rest here. His body aches for water. He checks the washroom—small, plain. No pool, no vessel large enough. His chest tightens with unease. How can a dragon rest without water?
Anxious, he hurries downstairs and bursts into Shaamvi's room.
Shaamvi stirs beneath her blanket, half-asleep. She forces her heavy eyes open, switching on the small lamp at her bedside.
He speaks quickly, almost stumbling over his words. "I know it may sound strange, but I cannot rest without water. I need it—please."
Her brow furrows. "What…?"
"I cannot lie on a bed. I cannot rest in a room. I need water. A vessel.… a place which is filled with fresh water." His words rush out, desperate, raw.
"Would sitting under a shower work?" she asks, trying to follow.
"No," he shakes his head. "It must be still. Contained. A resting pool."
"Then go out," she says. "There are ponds, swimming pools—you'll find something in the city. Rest there."
"If I leave, you will be alone," he counters. His voice sharpens. "When your friend was doing the ritual today , there was a spy—a dark creature disguised as a butterfly. A shapeshifter. It escaped before I could stop it. I am certain it was sent by the one who cursed you. If the next strike comes while I'm gone…."
Shaamvi jolts upright, fear widening her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me this before? Why didn't you catch it?"
"There was no time. It vanished before I could."
She runs her fingers through her hair, exhaling sharply. "All right… all right. You can go but you must be here before dawn, before Stanzin begins the curse breaking ritual. Go quickly. Rest well and make sure not to get noticed ."
He hesitates. "Are you sure?"
She thinks for few seconds. She is afraid. He is the only one who can truly protect her. Should she let him go out, away from her? She does not want him gone. At last, she shakes her head. "No… no."
She rises from the bed, walks, and open the door of her washroom attached to her room. She points inside. "What about this?"
KaanKuwar steps in, glancing around. His gaze falls upon a stone basin fixed into the ground—an odd, shallow vessel meant for water. He tilts his head, considering.
"It's a bathtub." She speaks. "You can use this."
But worry creeps inside Shaamvi — this is her private washroom. Is it right to let a man remain here, so close, inside her room, her bathroom? Her pulse hammers with the strangeness of it. Yet she swallows her hesitation, trusting him and knowing it is the only option for now.
"It is too small," he admits slowly. "But… I will manage."
Shaamvi bends to open the tap, water rushing into the basin. "Then stay here. Rest. I will use another washroom." She gestures to a small lever near the basin. "This will keep the water in. If you pull it, it will drain away."
He only half-understands, but nods. "I will lock from inside, I won't open until morning."
"Good," she says softly, stepping back. "Just rest."
She leaves, and he locks the bathroom.
Water fills the basin, spilling cool and steady. KaanKuwar removes his human garments and lowers himself in, shifting into his true form. But the moment his body expands, the room itself whines in protest.
His body is deep, royal blue—the shade of the sky when dusk has slipped away, yet night has not fully claimed it, when the moon already rises and the horizon holds its last light. Scattered scales of gold shimmer along his spine, tail, and talons, each breath making their edges catch the glow as though fragments of stars are stitched into him.
But beauty collides with absurdity.
His tail, long and ridged with gold tipped scales, coils awkwardly against the tiled wall and floor. His wings, ocean dark and vast jam against the ceiling. His horns, curved, gleam like polished obsidian, stark against his royal blue form—press awkwardly against the corners, one carving a faint crack in the plaster above.
"This... is not… ideal," he mutters, twisting his body like a serpent trying to fold into a closet too small. His claws dangle over the edge of the basin, which now looks laughably tiny beneath his vast form. The water splashes everywhere, more on the floor than in the vessel.
He tries to curl tighter. IfI bend here… no, then my tail sticks out the door. If I tuck my wing there… no, the wall cracks. Oh gods, what kind of resting place is this?
At last, he wedges himself in, his snout pressed against the wall, his wings folded in the most undignified angles possible. The mighty dragon reduced to looking like a giant lizard trapped in a clay pot.
I need more water. He thinks, and open all the taps of the bathroom.
Still, his eyes close. "this is too small and too stupid. But It's okay, I need to bear just for few days."
From her bed, Shaamvi hears the clatter of taps, the rushing water. She frowns, shakes her head, and pulls her blanket tighter. "He must be figuring out something," she whispers to herself, and drifts back into uneasy sleep.
Inside the washroom, KaanKuwar sighs, uncomfortable but resolute, a dragon coiled in a space far too human for his kind.