"You will be my last," Shriya vowed.
She didn't say it lightly.
She didn't say it softly.
She said it like a promise carved into stone, and she let MK sit with it — let her marvel at the weight of it, the safety of it, the way it wrapped around her chest and made her breathe easier.
MK didn't answer with words.
She didn't need to.
She only smiled, slow and full, the kind of smile that said I'm home, and Shriya knew then — whatever storms were coming, they were no longer facing them alone.
---
Morning arrived quietly.
Too quietly.
Shriya slipped out of bed before the sun had fully claimed the sky. She moved carefully, deliberately, dressing in the half-light so as not to wake MK. For a moment, she stood there, watching her sleep — MK sprawled lazily, hair tangled, lips slightly parted, peaceful in a way the world rarely allowed her to be.
"I'm heading to work," Shriya murmured softly, pressing a kiss to MK's forehead.
It wasn't a lie.
But it wasn't the truth either.
There were things that needed settling.
And no one — no company, no man, no institution — was allowed to mistreat her girlfriend and walk away untouched.
---
MK woke hours later, wrapped in quiet.
No alarm.
No urgency.
No place she needed to be.
The weight of unemployment hadn't hit yet — not fully. For now, there was just stillness. She lay there lazily, staring at the ceiling, replaying memories of meetings, deadlines, laughter with coworkers who had dismissed her like she never mattered.
She sighed and rolled onto her side.
"Guess this is what freedom feels like," she muttered.
It didn't feel freeing.
It felt hollow.
---
Across the city, Shriya was anything but still.
She stood in the private back room of a club — not M-Kent Paradise, but another one entirely. The kind of place that didn't ask questions and didn't keep records. Peach and Leah still worked here. Familiar faces. Trusted ground.
Men and women gathered around a long table, screens glowing, files already open.
Shriya didn't sit.
"I want you," she said, pointing without hesitation, "to hack into the company's system."
She turned slightly. "You — I want full staff records. Every name, every complaint, every hidden note."
Another shift. "You two — board members. History, alliances, dirt if it exists."
"And you," she finished, voice sharpening, "investors. All of them."
There was no room for hesitation.
"Yes, boss," they answered in unison.
If MK could see her now, she wouldn't recognize her.
This wasn't the gentle woman who traced patterns on her skin at night.
This wasn't the soft voice that whispered reassurance into her neck.
This was the woman who ran things.
Shriya had built this network over years — quietly, efficiently. She had ruled this city in ways most people never noticed. And lately, she had chosen to step back, to soften, to be less involved.
Helen had told her it was healthy.
If you want to build something real with MK, the therapist had said, you have to learn when to let go of control.
So she had tried.
But letting go didn't mean allowing cruelty.
---
Shriya's jaw tightened as memories flooded her mind.
MK staying up all night just to meet deadlines.
MK answering emails while sick, pushing herself until her symptoms worsened.
MK brushing it off with a smile, saying, I just love my job.
Shriya had almost stormed that company then. Almost demanded answers. Almost burned bridges.
And this — this was how they repaid her?
Thrown out like garbage.
"Aren't companies supposed to protect their own?" Shriya thought bitterly. "Who gets crucified for loving someone?"
Her phone buzzed.
She typed quickly.
I have some work to attend to. I won't be seeing you for a while.
She stared at the screen, guilt pressing into her chest.
I'm sorry, baby. You loved that job. I'll give it back to you.and this time let's see who dares fire you. She thought
She hit send and tucked the phone away before she could second-guess herself.
---
MK's reply came almost instantly.
Till when I will be so bored?
Shriya exhaled despite herself.
How about you go supervise your paradise, baby girl, she typed before she could stop herself.
The moment she sent it, her eyes widened.
"Oh no," she groaned aloud, dragging a hand down her face. She cursed herself, replaying the words in her head, calling herself every name she would never dare say to MK directly.
Her phone buzzed again.
Wow, Shrii. You're making me miss you already.
MK's grin was practically visible through the screen.
Shriya froze.
"I didn't mean to…" she typed — then deleted.
She tried again. Deleted.
Again. Deleted.
Minutes passed.
"Damn it," she muttered.
"Boss," one of the team interrupted, holding up a tablet. "I found something."
Shriya snapped back to focus instantly.
"These are the members who were paid to influence the firing of— of— your— ah—"
"Girlfriend, you idiot," Shriya corrected coldly.
The room went silent.
---
Meanwhile, MK took Shriya's advice.
Before heading to the club, she made a detour.
Home.
Her family's house hadn't changed — same walls, same smell of familiarity, same quiet strength holding it together. They had spoken on the phone a few times since everything happened, but her mother had avoided the topic entirely.
And MK had been too afraid to ask.
She needed to see them.
Needed to know.
As she parked the car, her chest tightened.