The warm glow from the television spilled across the small living room, painting soft gold over the couch where MK and Shriya lay curled together. Onscreen, Season Two of Motherland: Fort Salem raged on, witches marching to war—but neither woman was really paying attention to the war. Their show had become a ritual, one they guarded more fiercely than a date night. MK never pressed play unless Shriya was beside her. Shriya never watched ahead, even when tempted.
MK suddenly stood, drifting toward the kitchen without pausing the episode. Shriya smiled at the way she moved—focused, multitasking, always thinking three steps ahead.
MK returned with snacks tucked under one arm and a blanket flung over her shoulder. Without looking away from the TV, she shook the blanket out and draped it gently over Shriya's lap. She pressed a bag of snacks into her hand like it was muscle memory.
Shriya froze.
Just that small gesture—thoughtless, soft, tender—hit her harder than any grand confession. She felt it bloom inside her chest, warm and terrifying at the same time.
She watched MK instead of the screen, watched the way her brows knit during tense scenes, how her fingers twitched as if she were in battle with the characters. Shriya slipped pieces of her snack to MK, and MK would take one every now and then without noticing the pattern.
MK reached into her own bag and brushed the bottom.
The last piece.
She lifted it toward her lips, paused… and held it out to Shriya instead, without thinking, without looking, without breaking her focus from the show. Something instinctive, something intimate.
Shriya's throat tightened.
Her eyes burned.
No one had ever done something like that for her simply because it was natural.
She leaned forward and—unable to help herself—licked the crumbs from MK's fingers.
MK jolted, turning sharply. Her eyes widened at the unexpected touch, at the heat in Shriya's gaze.
"Are you okay?" MK asked, blinking fast. Only now did she notice Shriya's snack bag was still full. "You… you don't like them?"
Shriya swallowed, voice dropping into a whisper she didn't intend—a whisper that seemed to vibrate straight into MK's spine.
"I love you, MK."
MK's breath stilled.
She felt it—felt it everywhere. Like someone had spoken the words inside her bloodstream rather than into the air.
She inhaled slowly, shakily.
"I love you too, Shriya."
There was no hesitation.
This time, the kiss Shriya initiated wasn't hungry or rushed or desperate. It wasn't even the soft exploratory kisses they sometimes shared. It was something in-between, something that melted the bones beneath the skin, something that tasted like truth.
Shriya didn't think about guilt or fear. At that moment, she felt clean, whole, like she'd found the missing piece of something she didn't know was broken.
MK wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed her back with a depth she'd been holding in for weeks. Her hand slid along Shriya's body until it rested over her heart. She felt the warmth first… then the rhythm.
Thump.
Thump.
And then—
sync.
MK froze.
The beats aligned perfectly, two hearts slipping into the same tempo like they were made from the same blueprint. She pulled back, swallowing the shock, her voice barely audible.
"Is… is this what they mean when they say two bodies become one?"
Shriya cupped her cheek and kissed her again, deeper this time.
MK didn't question anything anymore.
That night didn't rush. It stretched, breathing with them, holding them as if time itself softened around their warmth. They moved together like they had always known each other's bodies. They whispered things they never thought they'd say. They discovered tenderness that neither had imagined existed.
And from that night forward, something unexplainable tied them together.
MK could sense Shriya now.
She could feel her before she entered a room.
She could feel when she was worried, when something was off, when something was hurting her.
Every time they kissed, MK's hand automatically found its way back to Shriya's chest—back to that heartbeat that always returned to match hers.
Every time her palm rested there, butterflies erupted in her stomach as if it were their first kiss all over again. No matter how often it happened, the thrill never faded.
Shriya had noticed something too.
Not the heartbeat.
Something else.
They moved in sync. Always.
She tested it once.
While kissing MK, she thought of placing her hand above MK's head on the wall—just a private passing thought.
MK's hand moved first.
Their fingers intertwined exactly where Shriya had imagined.
"Maybe it was coincidence…" Shriya whispered to herself afterward, pretending it didn't scare and thrill her at the same time.
But it happened again.
And again.
And again.
Whether soft or deep, slow or hungry, they were mirrors—flawlessly aligned. When one pulled, the other pushed. When one leaned, the other caught. When one softened, the other followed like they shared a mind.
MK didn't question it.
She was happy.
Not surface happy—deep happy. Happy in her bones. Happy in her skin.
"Even my body is happy," she thought once… and then laughed at how ridiculous yet true it was.
Months passed with ease.
MK's company thrived under her leadership. She opened a branch abroad and worked more hours than ever—yet she still found herself smiling at texts she didn't realize she had been waiting for.
Shriya, meanwhile, shifted quietly.
She took fewer jobs from their shadowy boss.
Only accepted missions that wouldn't risk MK's trust.
She pushed the riskier assignments to Leah and Peach, who were not happy about the new workload.
"Why are you doing this?" Peach demanded one night.
"I'm tired," Shriya confessed. "I want a break."
Leah narrowed her eyes. "This is because of that woman, isn't it?"
"Of course it's because of her," Peach muttered.
Shriya clenched her jaw. "This has nothing to do with MK."
Peach scoffed. "If she ever finds out you recorded that video… she'll leave you."
A crack went through Shriya's chest—but she kept her face blank.
"She doesn't need to know."
Peach opened her mouth to push—but then she froze.
Her eyes widened, shifting past Shriya's shoulder.
"MK…"
The room went still.
Every breath stopped.