By Friday evening, MK was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally drained.
Her bedroom was dim, lit only by the fading daylight slipping in through the curtains. She stood over a half-open suitcase, folding clothes with hands that wouldn't stop trembling. A change of clothes, essentials, charger—the bare minimum.
It felt strange packing for someone.
Not for work.
Not for a trip.
Not for an event.
But for an answer.
MK's chest tightened.
Am I ready for this?
What if she doesn't want to see me?
What if I'm too late—again?
Her phone buzzed.
Jesse.
MK answered instantly. "Hey."
"You didn't sleep again, did you?" Jesse asked.
MK didn't respond.
"That's what I thought," Jesse sighed. "Look… go. Don't overthink it. Just go."
MK swallowed. "What if she hates me?"
"And what if she doesn't?" Jesse said gently. "MK, not knowing is worse than being rejected. Trust me."
MK closed her eyes. She knew Jesse was right.
"Okay," MK whispered. "I'm going."
"Good," Jesse said softly. "And MK?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't run this time."
MK ended the call, grabbed her suitcase, and walked out.
---
Meanwhile in the Capital
The martial studio lights burned warm and bright as Shriya moved through her drills. Punch. Pivot. Kick. Repeat. Sweat trickled down her jaw, dampening her collar.
The capital was loud. Busy. Full. But somehow, Shriya had never felt more alone.
Every punch cracked through the air like she was hitting a memory she couldn't let go of.
Her instructor watched quietly from the corner. "You're hitting like someone who's running away."
Shriya froze mid-motion.
"I'm not running," she said quietly.
"Your fists disagree."
Shriya looked away, wiping her face with her towel. "It's complicated."
"It usually is," he said. "But whatever—or whoever—you left behind… is still chasing you."
She didn't reply.
Instead, she grabbed her bag and slipped out into the night.
But his words chased her home.
---
MK's Journey
MK left for the capital.
Two hours on the road.
Two hours of rehearsing apologies she wasn't sure she'd get to say.
Two hours of imagining every possible ending—good or bad.
The capital skyline appeared just as the sun was setting. An orange glow stretched across the city, casting long shadows between the buildings.
MK parked outside Shriya's residential complex, stomach twisting painfully. She double-checked the paper with the address.
Same building.
Same floor.
Same number.
The elevator ride felt like rising toward a verdict.
Floor 5.
Floor 6.
Floor 7.
The hallway was quiet, lit by soft amber lights.
MK stopped at the door at the end of the hall.
Shriya's door.
Her heart hammered painfully. She raised her hand.
And knocked.
---
The Threshold
Footsteps approached, slow, hesitant.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Shriya stood there—hair damp from a post-training shower, loose shirt hanging comfortably off her shoulder. Her breath caught as her eyes widened.
"MK?"
MK exhaled shakily. "Hi."
Shriya blinked, the surprise fading into something unreadable. "What… what are you doing here?"
"I came to talk," MK whispered. "If you'll let me."
Shriya hesitated—long enough for MK's pulse to stumble—but then she stepped aside.
MK entered.
The room felt warm, lived-in. A mug on the table. A towel hanging over a chair. A soft hum of the city outside.
Shriya closed the door gently.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
MK opened her mouth—but from the corner of her eye, she saw a silhouette through the balcony glass.
Someone was sitting on the small outdoor sofa.
Adrenaline surged through her chest.
No no no no—
She didn't think.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't reason.
She stormed past Shriya, slid the balcony door open—
And practically tackled the figure at the table, knocking the tray out of the girl's hands.
"What the—?" the girl squeaked.
"MK?!" Shriya's voice cracked like a whip. "MK—stop! Let go!"
MK froze mid-grab.
A hotel uniform.
A tray.
A spilled drink dripping off the table.
The girl's eyes wide with confusion.
MK's stomach dropped.
"Oh God." She covered her face with both hands. "Damn—I… I thought—"
Shriya rushed to the waitress before MK could speak.
"I'm so sorry," Shriya said, voice steady. "I'll pay for everything."
The girl nodded nervously, scooping the fallen items and hurrying away.
Shriya turned toward MK, disappointment heavier than anger. She walked back inside without a word.
MK followed. "Shriya—wait!"
Shriya stopped in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, chest rising and falling quickly.
"Why are you doing this, MK?" she whispered, voice trembling. "I apologized for what I did. I'm trying to fix it. But you—" she swallowed, "you make it impossible."
MK stepped forward, heart aching.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "For everything. For hurting you. For running. For not fighting when I should have. For not believing you. Shriya, I'm sorry."
Shriya's expression softened just a little.
"Can we talk?" MK said. "Please."
Shriya didn't speak.
So MK did what she had been holding in for months.
"I still love you."
Shriya blinked. "You… do?"
"Yes."
"But you have a girlfriend."
"We broke up," MK said, voice steady. "Before I came."
Shriya's eyes widened in shock. "MK… I never wanted—"
"It wasn't you," MK said, stepping closer. "I couldn't love her. My heart…" She lifted Shriya's hand, placing it over her own chest. "My heart still beats for you."
A tear slipped from Shriya's eye.
MK wiped it tenderly.
Shriya breathed shakily. "But… what about what I did?"
"You can make it up to me from now on."
MK leaned in. Their lips met—slow, trembling, rediscovering each other.
But Shriya's thoughts spun:
She held someone else like this.
She moved on.
You're nothing special.
You're replaceable.
Shriya flinched back, heart racing.
"You okay?" MK asked softly.
"I'm fine," Shriya lied. "I'm just… getting used to you being here."
MK didn't believe her.
Not fully.
But she didn't push.
---
Nightfall
They lay on the bed, MK curled lightly into Shriya's side. For a moment, it almost felt like before.
But then—
She probably held Ashley like this too.
Shriya's chest tightened painfully. She slowly slipped her arm away and turned on her side.
MK watched her back in silence.
She wasn't asleep either.
---
Morning — Out of Rhythm
Shriya stood by the window drinking coffee, the ocean breeze brushing her hair. MK approached slowly and slid her arms around Shriya's waist from behind.
Shriya's body reacted instinctively—soft breath, slight lean—
Then recoiled sharply.
MK felt it instantly.
Shriya's thoughts whispered sharply:
She did this with someone else.
It's not special anymore.
You're not special anymore.
Shriya didn't move.
MK stepped beside her, voice gentle. "Shriya… when are you going back?"
"We can go together," Shriya said quietly.
MK smiled softly. "Great."
But Shriya's eyes weren't smiling.
"How have you been?" Shriya asked suddenly.
MK blinked. "I… guess I've been okay? Why?"
"It's been a long time," Shriya murmured. "I just… wanted to know."
MK reached for her shoulders—tentative, careful, afraid to lose her.
They loved each other.
That wasn't the problem.
The problem was the silence.
The wounds.
The fear.
The ghosts between them.
This time, MK understood—
She was the one who had to fight for them.