Shriya didn't even slow down.
She moved past MK like a storm in motion, hands already reaching for the parachutes, the straps, the tangled ropes—anything but her. The metallic clink of equipment echoed through the hangar, sharp and cold, cutting through the air between them.
MK stood there for a second longer than she should have, fingers still gripping the edge of her safety vest. Her heart was still racing from the jump, from the rush, from the moment they had survived together. She had thought—no, she had believed—that they were finally getting somewhere. That the distance between them had started to shrink.
But now Shriya looked angrier than she had ever seen her.
"I said I'm sorry," MK called, pulling off her helmet as she followed her. "I didn't mean to get us in danger. I swear I didn't. Shrii—Shrii—"
"Please, MK," Shriya said, not turning around. Her voice was tight, strained, as if holding something back. She kept gathering the equipment, her movements fast, almost frantic.
But MK couldn't stop.
"Why won't you talk to me?" MK stepped in front of her, blocking her path. Her chest rose and fell, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound strong. "Say it, Shrii. Say it to my face. Say you don't love me anymore. Say all my efforts mean nothing. Say your heart doesn't recognize me. Say it, Shriya—and I promise I'll never bother you again."
The words landed between them like broken glass.
Shriya froze.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The noise of the hangar faded into the background, as if the world itself had stepped back to watch them break.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Shriya burst out at last. "You act like you don't want me anymore, and when I finally try to move on, you keep showing up. Every time I tell myself I'm done, there you are again. Why are you making my life so hard?"
MK swallowed. She looked at her—not just at her face, but at the tired eyes, the clenched jaw, the pain she knew too well.
"You are my happiness, Shrii," MK said softly. "You always have been. And no matter how much it hurts, I want to be with you. I know I've made mistakes. I know I messed up more times than I can count. But please… don't give up on us."
Her voice cracked at the end.
Slowly, she let go of Shriya's hand.
And then she walked away.
---
Shriya stayed where she was, frozen in place.
The sound of MK's footsteps faded, but the silence she left behind felt louder than anything. For a moment, Shriya told herself it was for the best. That this was what she had wanted—space, distance, an end to the constant emotional tug-of-war.
That should be fine, she thought.
But her heart didn't agree.
It throbbed painfully in her chest, heavy with everything she refused to say out loud. Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she tried to convince herself she was done, the truth stayed the same.
She still loved MK.
---
MK didn't show up anymore.
Not at Shriya's workplace.
Not at the places they used to meet.
Not even by accident.
Life went on—at least, she tried to make it look that way. She buried herself in work, in long hours, in conversations that meant nothing. But at night, when the world grew quiet, the memories came back louder than ever.
How do you stop loving someone?
How do you convince your heart to give up?
She worked with Jesse on projects, on ideas that kept her hands busy and her mind distracted. Once, she had trained herself to switch off emotions like flipping a switch. She had survived that way.
But since Shriya, she no longer knew how.
---
One evening, MK found herself at M Kent Paradise with a group she barely listened to—Jesse, Peter, Ben, and a few others. Their laughter echoed across the terrace, glasses clinking, music playing softly in the background.
"You own this place?" Peter said, impressed. "Damn, MK."
She nodded, distracted, eyes already searching the skyline instead of their faces. After a few polite words, she excused herself and climbed to the rooftop alone.
The city stretched beneath her—bright, endless, beautiful.
And empty.
She leaned against the railing, staring into her drink, wishing Shriya were standing beside her like she used to. Wishing she could turn back time to before everything went wrong.
A message buzzed on her phone.
Minutes later, Sarah appeared, slipping something small into MK's hand like a secret that didn't belong in the open air.
"Don't let anyone come up here," MK said quietly.
When Sarah left, MK stared at the substance in her palm.
"Sorry, Shrii," she whispered to the night. "I don't know how else to have you."
She poured it into her drink.
---
Her fingers trembled as she dialed.
"Shrii… can… can—" Her words blurred together.
Instant panic rushed through the other end. "MK? Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Where we first met," MK murmured.
Then the line went dead.
Even as the haze crept into her mind, guilt stabbed her. How selfish can you be? she thought dimly. But the thought faded as the world began to tilt.
---
Shriya didn't hesitate.
She was already grabbing her keys, already running, before she even realized she had decided to go. She could lie to herself all she wanted—but the truth lived in her chest.
Love like that didn't fade.
Her sports car cut through the streets, headlights slicing the darkness as her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Fear, anger, love—they all tangled together, impossible to separate.
She found MK just in time.
"MK, what's wrong?" Shriya begged, dropping beside her.
"That was first," MK murmured weakly.
Shriya didn't understand the words—but she understood the look.
"You were drugged," she hissed. "How could you be so careless?"
She pulled MK to her feet, MK clinging to her like she was the only thing keeping her upright.
"I hate that drug," Shriya muttered, guiding her to the car.
MK stiffened, then leaned closer, her breath warm against Shriya's ear. "Help me."
For a second, everything stopped.
MK leaned in slowly.
Shriya's breath hitched—but she pulled back.
If she kissed her now, she knew she would lose herself. And she couldn't afford that—not like this.
"Hang on," she said hoarsely, and drove.
---
MK woke to white walls.
The smell of antiseptic hit her before the memory did.
Hospital.
Her heart sank as disappointment washed over her. She had wanted to wake up in Shriya's bed—not here, not like this.
Then she saw her.
Shriya asleep in the chair beside her, head tilted forward, exhaustion written across her face.
Tears slipped down MK's cheeks before she even realized she was crying.
Shriya stirred. "MK… you're awake. What's wrong?"
"Why didn't you help me?" MK whispered.
"I did," Shriya said softly. "I brought you here."
"You know what I mean," MK said, voice breaking. "Are you disgusted by me?"
"MK, no—"
"Go, Shriya," MK said, turning away. "I give up."
Shriya moved without thinking. She knelt beside the bed and grabbed MK's hand.
"I'm sorry," she breathed. "What was I supposed to do?"
"I know you hate me—" MK started.
Something inside Shriya broke and before she knew it , she kissed, MK .
MK felt it everywhere.
In her chest.
In her bones.
In the way her body finally stopped shaking.
For one fragile moment, everything Shriya had been holding back shattered. Love rushed forward, raw and unguarded.
Then panic struck.Shriya pulled back suddenly, eyes wide.
"I'm sorry," Shriya gasped, pulling away.
"I can't—I can't breathe."she whispered—not because she lacked air, but because She was, overwhelmed by everything she had been suppressing.
Then she ran.
"Wait," MK called—
But the door was already closing.