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Krishna stood still, his arms folded across his chest as he stared out the tall glass windows of the company's strategy room. The cityscape sprawled before him—hazy and golden in the setting sun—but he saw none of it.

His mind was elsewhere. With her.

Why didn't she tell me?

Not just about the past—but about Jarasandh. About her connection to him. About the reason she'd joined this fight so fiercely, with so much fire in her eyes. Rukmini wasn't someone who threw herself into a war without reason. She was calculated. Purposeful. But whatever this reason was, it was buried. Guarded.

And it stung.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much. She didn't owe him anything. There were no promises between them. No claims. But something about the fact that she chose to keep it from him made his chest feel tight. As if she'd drawn a line somewhere, silently, and left him standing on the other side of it.

"Krishna."

No response.

"Krishna."

Still nothing.

"KRISHNA!"

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts.

He blinked, turning slightly to see Ram standing behind him with an amused expression.

"Where were you?" Ram asked, raising a brow. "I've been calling your name for the past minute. You looked like you were about to phase into another dimension."

Krishna let out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. Just... thinking."

Ram didn't reply at first. He just tilted his head slightly, studying Krishna with that calm, all-knowing look of his. The one that unnerved even Krishna on certain days.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

Krishna narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Rukmini." Ram's tone was dry but not unkind. "Come on, you're not exactly subtle."

Krishna scoffed. "I'm perfectly subtle."

Ram raised a brow. "You stared at her for a full ten seconds when she said 'it's personal'. You're brooding now like a rejected lover in a tragic epic. And you've been clenching your jaw every five minutes. You think I wouldn't notice?"

Krishna rolled his eyes but didn't deny it.

"I don't get it," he finally muttered. "I know it's none of my business, but... she could've told me. I didn't even know she had history with Jarasandh. I don't even know why she's in this fight."

Ram's expression softened.

"She might have her reasons," he said simply. "Some scars aren't meant for display, Krishna. You, of all people, should understand that."

Krishna glanced away, the weight of Ram's words landing heavier than he expected.

"I do," he admitted. "It's just... frustrating."

Ram smiled slightly. "That's because you care."

Krishna didn't respond to that.

Ram changed the subject with a slight shift in his tone. "Speaking of Rukmini... I was supposed to take her for the pre-party arrangements—outfits, accessories, last-minute pretence-building for the big show. But something came up. I've got a meeting with the Patel Enterprise, that can't wait."

"Okay...?" Krishna prompted warily.

"You're taking her."

Krishna blinked. "What?"

"You're taking Rukmini shopping," Ram repeated with a straight face. "Oh, and Subhadra's tagging along. She's been bouncing off the walls since she heard the plan. I think she's convinced it's a spy movie and you're all undercover agents."

Krishna groaned. "You're abandoning me."

Ram clapped his shoulder. "I'm trusting you."

Krishna scowled. "You're evil."

Ram grinned and started walking away. "Try not to get into an argument in the middle of the dresses showroom, please. The women there can sniff drama from a mile away."

Krishna muttered something under his breath.

But even as he stood there, trying to pretend this was all very annoying, his heart was already reacting to the idea of seeing Rukmini again.

He hadn't yet decided whether that made things better—or worse.

Krishna pulled up outside the house, the soft hum of the engine the only sound in the quiet lane. He checked his watch and leaned back, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting.

A moment later, the front door opened and out came Subhadra, her arms flailing dramatically as she tried to explain something to Rukmini, who followed with a sigh that looked far too practiced.

Through the windshield, Krishna's eyes caught Rukmini—her hair loosely tied, wearing a casual dress, a flicker of a smile playing on her lips at something Subhadra said. She looked... different. Or maybe it was just him.

He quickly looked away and adjusted the mirror like it had done something wrong.

The two women reached the car. Subhadra, in her usual flair, opened the rear door and all but shoved Rukmini inside, sliding in beside her.

Krishna blinked, looking over his shoulder.

"Oh, so I'm the driver today?" he asked, arching a brow.

"Yes," Subhadra chirped, fastening her seatbelt. "The designated driver and bag boy."

Krishna scoffed. "Remind me again how I ended up in this situation?"

"Because you're such a helpful, generous, kind soul," Subhadra replied sweetly, and Rukmini tried very hard not to laugh.

With a dramatic sigh, Krishna started the car and drove off.

Several stores, aching feet, and unholy shopping bags later...

Krishna was starting to reconsider his life choices. They'd been to seven stores already, and all he had to show for it was a bunch of shopping bags, a headache, and the sound of Subhadra saying "Just five more minutes!" on a loop like some cursed chant.

Subhadra and Rukmini, however, were on a mission. And no military general had ever been as focused as they were today.

"Nothing too loud," Rukmini murmured, scanning a rack of dresses.

"But not too subtle either," Subhadra added, pulling out one with sequins. "You're going to infiltrate a party. You need to blend in but also stand out."

Krishna blinked. "You two do realise this isn't a fashion show, right?"

Rukmini turned her head slightly, eyes gleaming with challenge. "Tell that to the elite parties of Jarasandh's allies."

Touché.

After another round of vetoing dresses and trying out what seemed like the entire inventory of the city, they finally arrived at a boutique that looked promising—sleek, elegant, and most importantly, less crowded.

Inside, the boutique was lined with mannequins in flowing western gowns and cocktail dresses. Soft music played in the background, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume.

"This is it," Subhadra declared like an oracle. "I can feel it. This is the one."

She spun around and turned to Krishna. "You. Wait outside."

Krishna blinked. "What? Why?"

"Because we need time and privacy. And you being here will distract Rukmini."

Rukmini shot her a what-the-hell-are-you-saying look, but Subhadra ignored it.

Krishna looked visibly betrayed. "I carried all your bags, drove all day, tolerated your endless commentary, and now I get kicked out?"

"Yes," Subhadra said with the same bright smile. "You're free to sulk on the bench outside."

So Krishna, sighing like a Shakespearean hero, dragged himself outside and collapsed on one of the sleek wooden benches just near the glass window.

Unbeknownst to him, inside the store...

Subhadra leaned close to Rukmini as she rifled through a rack of dresses. "Do you know how many girls stared at him when we walked in?"

Rukmini tried not to look too interested. "What?"

"Outside. Right now. He's sitting there with all our bags—looking like some tortured, handsome prince. And girls are literally fangirling."

Rukmini slowly turned her head ever so slightly, sneaking a glance out the glass.

And sure enough... he was just sitting there, completely unaware. The shopping bags rested on either side of him like loyal subjects. His head was tilted slightly back, eyes closed, basking in the mild breeze. And two girls walking by were not even pretending to hide their admiration, whispering and giggling while sneaking photos.

Rukmini's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Look at him," Subhadra whispered conspiratorially. "Absolutely nonchalant. He's got the aura of a man waiting to be worshipped, and he doesn't even know it."

Rukmini rolled her eyes. "He knows it."

Subhadra grinned. "He pretends not to."

Inside the store, the trial-and-error marathon continued—dresses rejected, opinions clashed, and drama escalated every time Subhadra declared "This is the one!" only to reject it five minutes later.

But outside... Krishna remained where he was, lost in his own thoughts.

And maybe, just maybe, wondering what kind of dress she would come out wearing.

Krishna leaned back on the bench, the weight of the shopping bags forgotten as his gaze drifted toward the clouds shifting lazily across the sky.

He sighed.

How did I end up here?
He didn't mind helping—not really. But he hadn't expected the day to leave him so... restless. Or maybe it wasn't the day.

Maybe it was her.

Rukmini.

She had been quiet during the drive. Still polite. Still teasing when he poked fun. But her laugh didn't quite reach her eyes the way it used to.
It gnawed at him.

He didn't even know when he'd gotten so attuned to her. When a single glance from her could say more than a thousand words.
When her silences became the loudest parts of his day.

And now, here he was, carrying ten shopping bags and waiting outside a boutique like a clueless idiot, while she tried on dresses for a party she'd attend with someone else.

He scoffed.

What the hell is wrong with me?

There were a few girls nearby giggling and pointing at him, probably finding him "cute" or whatever Subhadra always teased him about. He ignored them.
His thoughts were elsewhere.

He rubbed the back of his neck.
She told Arjun about her connection to Jarasandh—but not me.
It wasn't about secrets, not really. Krishna himself had walls taller than most castles. But Rukmini... she used to choose him. Trust him.
When had that changed?

He ran a hand through his hair, letting it fall back with a sigh.
Maybe Ram was right. Maybe she had her reasons. Maybe it wasn't about him at all.
But that didn't make the ache any less real.

He glanced back at the boutique window, half-expecting to see her peeking from behind a curtain, sticking her tongue out at him like she used to when he caught her off guard.

Nothing.

He tilted his head up, closing his eyes against the breeze.

What if she doesn't come back out the same?
What if this new version of her—the one Arjun gets to walk beside, the one who laughs but doesn't let him in—is here to stay?

Krishna chuckled under his breath, the sound dry and bitter.

"Stupid," he muttered. "I'm the one who agreed with her about the 'we should be friends', thing"

And that's when he heard Subhadra's voice calling him through the glass, interrupting his thoughts.

The moment had passed.

But the ache?

That stayed.

Krishna barely managed to adjust the latest shopping bag slung over his arm—it was enormous, practically swallowing half his torso.

He squinted at it.
"Seriously? What's even in this one? A whole sofa set?"

Subhadra didn't even look at him. She was too busy admiring Rukmini, who was beaming like she had finally conquered a mountain. "You'll see it on the day," Subhadra said with a smug smile. "No sneak peeks."

Krishna narrowed his eyes. "What am I, your pack mule?"

Subhadra gave him a pointed look. "You volunteered."

"I was emotionally blackmailed."

"You're dramatic."

"You're impossible."

"I'm delightful."

Rukmini chuckled softly, walking a little ahead with Subhadra, leaving Krishna trailing behind like a glorified sherpa for fashion.

As they passed one of the larger shop windows, Subhadra suddenly gasped and stopped in her tracks. "Okay, but—look at that mannequin," she pointed, practically scandalised and fascinated all at once.

Rukmini turned and followed her gaze. The mannequin was male, styled in an effortlessly dashing outfit—layered with jackets, rolled sleeves, and a chiseled jawline that would make a deity jealous.

"Oh my," Rukmini muttered, her eyes widening. "Yeah... okay, that mannequin is oddly—hot?"

Subhadra nodded fervently. "Right?! He looks like the brooding lead in a spy movie!"

Krishna, who had come to a reluctant stop beside them, blinked and looked at the mannequin like it had just personally offended him. His eyebrows shot up.
"That? That's what you're into now? Fibreglass and fake cheekbones?"

Subhadra smirked. "I mean, it's doing more modelling than you right now. You look like you're auditioning for Househusbands of Hastinapur."

Krishna rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh and adjusted the bags again. "Wonderful. Objectified by mannequins and mocked by sibling. My life is complete."

He didn't wait for their response. With a shake of his head and a muttered, "Unbelievable," he walked past them.

Subhadra grinned and whispered to Rukmini, "You know he's jealous of the mannequin, right?"

Rukmini smiled, watching Krishna's retreating back as he stomped ahead in all his bag-laden glory.
"Yeah," she said, voice light but warm. "I think he is."

The rest of the week passed in a blur of preparations and whispered plans. Arjun had finalised the strategy with military precision, Draupadi had gathered intel so delicate it came sealed in an encrypted drive, and Rukmini... Rukmini was still trying to figure out why her heart beat faster every time someone mentioned the party.

It wasn't just a party. It was a gathering of the elite—people powerful enough to shake the economy with a signature, people dangerous enough to bring down empires with a whisper. And among them, hidden behind smiles and champagne glasses, were Jarasandh's most trusted associates.

It would be their one chance to slip inside undetected, to listen without being seen, to map the cracks in an empire they were planning to crumble.

But even with all the high-stakes drama, Rukmini couldn't help but think of the other thing—the personal thing.

The dress. The moment. The questions.

Would Krishna be watching?

Would he notice her the way he used to—when he looked at her without really saying anything, but somehow said everything?

And more importantly, why did she care?

In another room of the same mansion, Krishna sat in his study, casually twirling a pen between his fingers while staring at nothing in particular. But his mind... his mind was anything but still.

He'd told himself this mission was the priority. That the goal was to expose Jarasandh and get the names of everyone who was part of the silent syndicate. That Rukmini's presence at the party was tactical. That Arjun would be with her. That he—Krishna—would stay in the shadows where he belonged.

But no amount of logic seemed to be stopping that gnawing feeling in his chest.

Why hadn't she told him about her past with Jarasandh?

Why was Arjun the one going with her?

Why was he so annoyingly affected by all this?

Subhadra strolled past the door and saw her brother staring at a wall.

"I hope you're planning your speech for the wedding reception," she teased.

Krishna blinked. "Whose wedding?"

"Yours. Eventually. Hopefully." She smirked and disappeared down the hall.

Krishna groaned.

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