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After a long, draining day at court, all Rukmini wanted was silence, fragrance, and a deep, soul-soothing moment of stillness. The legal debates, the endless files, the stubborn clients—everything had drained her. She didn't want to see a single word or hear another argument for the rest of the day.

She stepped out of the car, heels in hand, feeling like her bones had aged a decade. As she walked up the steps of the mansion, the butler greeted her with a respectful nod and a soft "Welcome back, ma'am," while the maid gave her a cheerful smile. Rukmini mustered a tired smile of her own, appreciating their warmth more than she could say.

She made her way upstairs, the familiar space of her room already offering comfort. Her routine kicked in like muscle memory—she placed her shoes neatly in their spot, shrugged off her blazer and hung it with care, then tied her hair up into a loose bun.

The bath that followed was nothing short of divine.

The scent of rose and sandalwood filled the air, and as the warm water melted the day's tension off her body, she felt herself slowly begin to breathe like a human again.

By the time she emerged in a soft nightgown and robe, her skin slightly flushed from the heat, Rukmini felt reborn.

She walked into her room, dimmed the lights to a golden hue, and turned on the ambient sound machine she had recently fallen in love with. A soft blend of gentle ocean waves and piano notes filled the air, accompanied by the soothing fragrance of lavender from the diffuser on her shelf. She stretched her arms above her head, groaning quietly as she twisted her wrists and rolled her sore shoulders. Then she curled up on the couch in her room, finally allowing herself to relax.

With her favourite playlist humming quietly in the background and a faint breeze fluttering the curtains, she gathered her skin care products and began her nightly ritual—serums, creams, the works. Her fingers moved with practiced ease across her cheeks, and she was just about to apply her under-eye gel when—

The door burst open.

"RUKUUU!" came a cheerful voice.

Rukmini blinked. What the hell?

Standing at the entrance of her room, looking like she had just won the lottery, was Subhadra—grinning from ear to ear and quite literally dancing her way in with a giant basket in hand.

"What on earth—?" Rukmini started, half in alarm, half amusement.

Subhadra, now halfway across the room, dramatically cut her off. "Don't! Don't you dare ask me anything! I have brothers—two of them. One is too moody and the other works like he's in a spy movie. I need girl time. Desperately."

Rukmini let out a tired laugh and scooted over on the couch, making space. "You're so dramatic."

"I know," Subhadra said, proud of it. She plopped down beside her and opened the basket like it was a treasure chest.

Inside? An embarrassing number of things: face masks, snacks, a mini speaker, a bottle of nail paint, marshmallows, a scrunchie collection, and even a strawberry-scented candle.

"What... is this?" Rukmini asked, trying not to laugh.

"It's a night out. But in. With snacks, scents, secrets, and skincare," Subhadra said, puffing up with pride. "I told Ram I'd be busy tonight and not to bother me unless someone was dying. I think he looked mildly terrified, so I consider that a win."

"You are too extra," Rukmini said, watching her with disbelief as she began lighting the candle like it was a sacred ritual.

"And you love every bit of it," Subhadra beamed, throwing her arms around Rukmini for a quick hug before immediately digging into the basket again. "Now, put down that boring under-eye roller and pick a face mask. We're bonding, Queen."

Rukmini leaned back, smiling softly.

The air smelled of strawberries and lavender now.
The waves and piano continued playing in the background.
And for the first time that day, she felt... light.

Maybe she hadn't realised just how much she needed this. The quiet, chaotic affection of someone barging into her space with all the energy in the world. Someone who reminded her that sisterhood didn't need blood to exist—it just needed warmth.

"Alright," she said, picking up a honey mask with a mock sigh. "But if you paint my nails hot pink again, I swear—"

"No promises," Subhadra grinned.

And just like that, a tiresome day faded into the background as the two women laughed and lounged, wrapped in the strange, beautiful calm of companionship.

As they both sat cross-legged on Rukmini's plush carpet, their faces glowing under the soft lighting and layers of face masks, the comforting aroma of strawberries and lavender still lingering in the air, Subhadra suddenly cleared her throat—loudly and deliberately.

Rukmini glanced sideways, her brow lifting. "You okay?"

Subhadra didn't answer immediately. Instead, she nudged Rukmini hard on the shoulder, almost making her drop the cotton pad in her hand.

Rukmini blinked, confused. "What was that for?"

Subhadra huffed, crossing her arms with exaggerated frustration. "You're either too dumb for this world or you're doing that thing where you pretend to not understand because it's convenient."

"Oh really?" Rukmini said, lips curving into a sly smirk as she mimicked the same shoulder-nudge, complete with a dramatic eyebrow wiggle.

Subhadra narrowed her eyes. "What?"

Rukmini tilted her head, put on her best "wise guru" voice, and quoted, "'How will anyone know what you actually want if you never say it out loud?' Sound familiar?"

Subhadra let out a dramatic gasp and slapped her forehead. "Oh god. You're so much like Krishna it's honestly scary."

Rukmini laughed, tossing her scrunchie at her. "You think that's an insult?"

"No. It's a warning," Subhadra teased, then leaned in slightly, her voice lowering into mock seriousness. "Okay but seriously. That night—you and him. The motel. Something happened, right?"

At that, Rukmini froze—for a fraction of a second. But it was enough.

Subhadra's eyes narrowed like a hawk's. "You're blushing."

"I'm not blushing," Rukmini said way too quickly, turning her face slightly away.

"You are blushing!" Subhadra pointed triumphantly. "Look at you! What was it? What happened??"

Rukmini groaned, covering her cheeks. "Maybe I rubbed my face too hard during cleansing. Can happen. Scientifically proven."

"Don't give me 'science,' give me gossip."

Rukmini sighed, giving in. "Okay fine. But don't scream, okay?"

"I'm already screaming inside," Subhadra whispered dramatically, inching closer.

"It wasn't anything that big. We just... talked. You know, like real, honest heart-to-heart stuff. For once, no pretending. Just... him and me."

Subhadra's expression softened for a second. "Okay. That is big. But continue."

"And then..." Rukmini hesitated, her voice growing softer. "When those goons came to check if we were really a couple, Krishna... he acted like we were kissing."

Subhadra's reaction was instant.

She dropped her face mask container, eyes going wide. "HE WHAT?! KRISHNA VASUDEV DID WHAT?!"

"I said don't scream!"

"Too late!" Subhadra squealed, grabbing a pillow and smashing it into her face before turning back with wild eyes. "You mean to say this man—this calculated chaos of a man—pretended to kiss you?!"

"It wasn't like that!" Rukmini defended quickly, cheeks warm again. "It was just... it was smart, okay? And quick-thinking. Like an actor. He didn't even touch me."

Subhadra gave her a look. "And yet your cheeks are glowing brighter than my highlighter."

"I told you," Rukmini muttered, "I rubbed my face too hard."

Subhadra let out a scandalised laugh, grabbing another pillow. "This. This right here is why I never feel you. Because you downplay everything. I mean, motel. Alone. Pseudo-kiss. Heart-to-heart. Face inches apart? And you're out here calling it nothing?!"

Rukmini rolled her eyes, grabbing a handful of popcorn from Subhadra's basket and tossing it at her. "Oh please. This from the girl who once cried because Ram forgot her tea order."

"It was a caramel cinnamon oat milk chai! You don't just forget that!"

Both girls burst into laughter, the kind that echoed through the room and bounced off the walls with warmth. Their face masks were slightly uneven, their hair slightly messy, and their cheeks sore from smiling—but in that moment, everything felt easy and full.

Rukmini leaned her head back against the couch. "I hate how extra you are."

"And I hate how in denial you are."

"Touché," Rukmini said, raising her invisible glass.

Subhadra clinked her imaginary drink against it. "To sisterhood."

"And to not kissing Krishna," Rukmini added teasingly.

"Oh honey, yet." Subhadra winked.

"SHUT UP!"

Laughter followed again—louder this time.

And in that little bubble of scent, music, teasing, and confessions, Rukmini felt something melt within her: a kind of comfort she hadn't known she needed.

A little bit of healing, one ridiculous bonding session at a time.

Much later that night, the room had gone quiet—save for the soft ambient sounds playing from Rukmini's diffuser and the occasional creak of the old wooden floor settling beneath the weight of the world.

The lights were dim now. Subhadra and Rukmini lay side by side on the large bed, each wrapped in their own cocoon of blankets, the glow of the moon seeping in through the half-open curtains, casting silver ribbons across the floor.

Rukmini turned slightly, eyes adjusting to the darkness. "Hey... you awake?"

"Mmm-hmm," Subhadra murmured, half-lidded but still alert.

Rukmini hesitated, staring at the ceiling. "Was it wrong of me... that night at the party, when just hearing Krishna's name brought me to life again?"

Subhadra blinked slowly, then turned her face toward her. "Why would that be wrong?"

Rukmini exhaled. "Because I proposed friendship first. Because I told myself that's all I wanted. That's all I could afford to want. And yet... one name, and everything inside me just—flipped."

A soft, sleepy smile crept onto Subhadra's face. She didn't speak for a moment. Then, dreamily, she whispered, "It sounds just right to me."

Rukmini looked at her, eyes curious.

Subhadra rolled onto her side to face her fully, propping her head on her hand. "You know, people crave to feel what you're feeling. That kind of raw connection, that pull... it's not weakness, Rukmini. It's rare. And if your heart lit up just by hearing his name, then damn—it means something."

Rukmini stayed quiet, the weight of Subhadra's words washing over her.

Subhadra continued, her voice softer now. "And starting from friendship... it's the best way. That's when you get to know each other. To argue and laugh and share snacks and secrets without the pressure. That's when the magic happens. When love isn't forced—it just... sneaks in."

Rukmini chuckled quietly. "How are you so good at this?"

Subhadra smirked. "Darling, I live for this stuff. I'm a sucker for emotions. And drama. And love stories. And night-time confessions with my future sister-in-law."

Rukmini's cheeks flushed instantly. "Don't you dare start again..."

"No no—hear me out!" Subhadra said, laughing softly. "Two of my friends just got married recently. They started exactly like you and Krishna. Frenemies, then friends, then 'just friends,' and before they knew it—wedding bells. I cried through all three functions."

Rukmini groaned and pulled her blanket over her head. "Ugh, stop. Marriage is way too far. I shouldn't even be thinking about that."

Subhadra giggled. "Hey, I didn't say anything. Your blushing did."

Rukmini peeked out from under the blanket, shooting her a glare that held zero malice. "You are incorrigible."

"And yet," Subhadra said, nudging her shoulder, "if you ever do end up marrying him, I swear on my entire skincare collection—I'll be the happiest person alive."

Rukmini smiled, soft and a little shy. "You're a menace."

"A loveable one," Subhadra said proudly, nestling back into her blanket. "Now sleep before I start planning your sangeet outfit."

Rukmini laughed, her voice finally free of all the weariness the day had brought.

As they both closed their eyes, with sleep slowly draping over their conversation, Rukmini felt something gentle and warm settle in her chest.

The fear wasn't gone—but tonight, there was laughter, sisterhood, and the whispered beginning of something beautiful.

.

.

.

The living room of the mansion was quiet—unusually so. Rukmini sat cross-legged on the floor, a large sheet of paper spread out in front of her with coloured markers scattered everywhere. Krishna hovered nearby, leaning lazily against the backrest of the couch, sipping his buttermilk like it was the most important business of the evening.

They were in full strategic mode. The recent student riots had caught both the media's and administration's attention, and Krishna had a strong suspicion that someone was fueling them deliberately. Rukmini was trying to find a way into the student crowd without raising alarms.

"We'll need to act like insiders," Rukmini muttered, tapping her marker against her chin. "Like students who are angry too."

Krishna nodded, swirling his glass. "Right. And we'll need to show up at the protest site without being suspicious. Blend in."

"I can drive us there," Rukmini said instinctively, then paused. Her eyes flicked up to Krishna's amused face and instantly regretted the words.

"Oh?" he said slowly, lips curling into a devilish grin. "You? Drive?"

"I can drive!" she defended herself, sitting up straighter.

He tilted his head. "Let me rephrase. You can technically drive. But the last time you were behind the wheel, you took ten minutes to reverse out of the parking lot. You even scared the gardener."

Rukmini narrowed her eyes. "It's not my fault the gardener looked like he was going to jump in front of the car. Besides, I've just never driven on a really busy road before."

Krishna snorted. "You mean you've never driven anywhere but the backyard and that one empty street near the temple."

She crossed her arms. "Well, I've never had the chance. Not to mention we have the Chauffeur and also you're always driving us around like some personal chauffeur."

"And yet here you are, pretending to be Fast & Furious," he said with a wink. "You need training, my lady."

Rukmini rolled her eyes. "What is this, Driving School 101?"

But Krishna was already walking out of the room. "Come on. I'm giving you lessons."

"Now?!"

"Yes, now. What better time to prepare for a fake riot infiltration than with a good old driving lesson under the stars?"

.

.

.

The car purred softly in the driveway under the dim light from the mansion. Rukmini gripped the steering wheel like it owed her money, her brows furrowed in deep concentration.

"Alright," Krishna said, lounging in the passenger seat with his seatbelt on, one arm thrown over the back of her seat. "Engine's on. Now gently ease into the—"

The car jerked forward.

"BRAKE! Rukmini, BRAKE!"

She stomped down and the car gave a lurching halt. Krishna flung a hand across her chest—pure reflex—to prevent her from crashing into the wheel.

"Do you want a whiplash to go with your 'I can drive, Krishna' speech?" he said dramatically.

She blinked, a little breathless—not because of the stop, but because his hand was still resting protectively across her chest.

Krishna seemed to realise it too and quickly pulled away, coughing. "That was... purely defensive. You're welcome, by the way."

"Sure," she mumbled, cheeks warm. "Very heroic of you."

He smirked. "I am known for my heroics."

"Right," she drawled. "Anyway, I've got it this time."

"Let's hope so," he muttered. "Or I'm calling a priest before we start the next round."

Rukmini pressed the accelerator more gently this time, and they moved forward, slowly. She grinned in victory. "See! Smooth!"

"Yes, finally," Krishna said, crossing his arms. "You didn't summon the wrath of physics this time. Congratulations."

"Don't ruin my moment," she said, pouting.

But the next challenge came swiftly. Changing gears.

"Okay, now clutch in, and change to second," he said.

"I'm trying!" Rukmini said, fumbling a bit.

Krishna leaned in. "No, no. Look—here, give me your hand."

Without waiting, he gently took her right hand in his. His fingers were warm, calloused from years of handling tools, weapons... and hearts.

"See this?" he guided her hand across the gear stick. "First is here. Second is here. You have to feel the click. Not just shove it in like you're angry at it."

"I'm not angry," she said, but her voice was breathy—because she wasn't concentrating on the gear anymore. She was concentrating on his hand holding hers, on how close his voice was, how seriously he was explaining something so mundane like it was sacred.

"You listening?" he asked, raising a brow, still holding her hand.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Totally." Her eyes flicked to the gear, then back at their hands.

Krishna smirked. "You're staring. You okay, Miss 'I Can Handle Anything'?"

"Shut up," she muttered, her face pink. "Just... let me try."

He let go of her hand slowly, watching her closely. "Go on then. Impress me."

She clutched in, moved the gear—with only a little hiccup—and the car kept moving smoothly.

"Hey!" she beamed. "That wasn't bad!"

"Look at you!" Krishna said in mock pride. "From vehicular threat to slightly tolerable. My student's all grown up."

Rukmini narrowed her eyes. "You're lucky I'm not turning this car toward your precious buttermilk stash."

"You wouldn't dare," he gasped.

"I might," she said smugly.

He held a hand to his heart. "You're cruel. Beautiful, but cruel."

Rukmini tried not to laugh. "You're impossible."

"And you're hopeless. But hey, you're learning."

They did a few more laps, and this time when Krishna reached out to shift the gear for her, his hand didn't linger for correction—it lingered just a little longer. Just long enough for her to notice. But not long enough to admit it.

Finally, when she parked (with only one minor panic moment), Krishna let out a sigh.

"You might not be ready for a street race just yet," he said, "but I'd say you've passed the 'don't kill us' stage."

"High praise," she said sarcastically, unbuckling.

Krishna smiled, watching her fondly. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Only if you promise to behave."

"No promises," he said with a wink, already walking ahead.

Rukmini shook her head, biting her smile. She was supposed to learn how to drive—but somewhere in between stalling engines and shifting gears, she was starting to realise she was learning something else too.

Something far more dangerous than a busy road.

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