A few hours had passed since the challenges ended.
The villa had settled into that particular post-competition quiet—the kind that came from reduced numbers and exhausted people who had nothing left to perform for each other. Wish had found a corner of the eastern terrace, a small table with two chairs, and Vish had found her there the way siblings always find each other—without needing to look very hard.
"He brought me flowers this morning," Vish was saying, turning her cup in her hands with the expression of someone genuinely bewildered by their own feelings. "Just—left them on the table. No note. Just flowers."
"That's sweet," Wish said.
"It's incredibly sweet," Vish agreed. "It makes me ask myself how it would have been if he was my real mate. Or maybe if I had a real mate." She paused. "Is that what it's like? Having someone who just—does things? For you? Without being asked?"
