MK was sitting on the couch when Shriya arrived.
The television was playing some random series—laugh track, dramatic pauses, background music—but MK hadn't absorbed a single second of it. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, yet her mind was still trapped in the boardroom: the polished table, the cold faces, the way they dismissed her as if years of work could be erased with a sentence.
As if she had never mattered.
The door unlocked softly.
Shriya stepped inside, keys already slipping back into her pocket. They both had copies now—another quiet thing they never officially discussed. Shriya closed the door carefully and walked toward the couch, slowing when she realized MK hadn't reacted at all.
"MK… hey," she said gently, leaning down to kiss her.
MK startled, flinching hard.
"Dammit, Shrii," she breathed, hand flying to her chest. "You're trying to give me a heart attack?"
She reached out immediately, pulling Shriya into a hug, clinging for half a second longer than usual.
Shriya noticed. She always did.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly.
"Nothing," MK replied too fast. "Just watching."
Shriya didn't call her out. Not yet.
"I booked us a table," she said instead. "Thought we could go out for dinner."
MK stood quickly. "Sure. Let me grab my bag."
"MK."
Shriya's voice stopped her.
MK turned back, confused.
"Can you be open with me?" Shriya asked, not accusing—just asking.
"I am open with you," MK said softly, walking back to her. She kissed Shriya's cheek, then paused. Something in her shifted. She stepped closer, placed her hand flat against Shriya's chest, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath.
"About yesterday," MK said, meeting her eyes, "I don't regret loving you. If anything… I'm grateful you came into my life."
Her palm stayed there, grounding herself in the rhythm she'd learned to trust.
"I'm not ashamed of loving you."
Shriya swallowed.
"I know," she said. "I just… want you to show me what you're feeling."
MK looked away, fingers tightening around her bag strap.
"I don't know how."
She exhaled, forcing a smile. "Let's go."
---
The restaurant took MK's breath away.
Crystal lights. Quiet elegance. The kind of place where names carried weight, where wealth wasn't flaunted—it was assumed. MK felt out of place instantly. She wasn't born into money. She didn't come from legacy. Even now, she didn't think she belonged among people whose surnames opened doors.
Shriya noticed MK's hesitation and squeezed her hand under the table.
They ate. They talked. MK smiled when she needed to. But the heaviness followed her home.
---
Back at the apartment, MK dropped onto the couch like her body had finally given up pretending.
"Shrii," she said suddenly, staring at the floor. "I don't want to keep secrets from you."
Shriya set MK's bag down—again—and sat beside her.
"What is it?"
"I got fired."
The words landed flat, almost casual. Her face didn't change—but Shriya knew better.
"Why?"
"I'm a bad image for the company."
Silence.
"How do you feel?" Shriya asked carefully.
"Like breaking something," MK replied. Her voice was calm. Her eyes were not.
"Then do it," Shriya said. "Let it out. Pretend I'm not here."
MK stood abruptly. A scream tore out of her chest—raw, furious. She grabbed the nearest thing, her phone, arm cocked back—
"Not that," Shriya said quickly, intercepting it.
The remote didn't survive.
Plastic shattered against the wall.
Shriya glanced at the pieces.
"…Well. That went about as expected."
MK let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a laugh before she collapsed into Shriya's arms.
"How do you feel now?" Shriya asked, holding her tight.
"A little better."
"I'm sorry," MK murmured.
"Don't be. Don't ever hold it in when you're with me."
MK nodded against her shoulder. "Thank you, Shrii."
She tilted her head, lips brushing Shriya's neck.
"I love you."
Shriya felt it—every time. Like electricity. Like gravity.
No matter how much time passes, I never get used to her, she thought.
"I love you too, MK."
They stayed like that until MK finally pulled back, breath uneven.
"Promise me something," Shriya said softly, their faces inches apart. "Whatever happens… don't walk away. Talk to me."
"I promise," MK said. "To include you in my problems."
It wasn't the promise Shriya asked for—but it was real.
MK leaned in, closing the distance. Shriya met her halfway, sealing the promise with a kiss neither of them rushed.
"Shrii," MK breathed when they pulled apart.
"Mmm?"
"I know I wasn't your first," MK said hesitantly. "But… can I be your last?"
Shriya smiled slowly.
"Are you proposing to me?"
"If I were," MK asked, nervous but steady, "what would you say?"
Shriya cupped her face, eyes serious, unwavering.
"I'll be your last, MK."