Starlight Company was spiraling.
Once a rising empire in the entertainment sector, it now teetered on the brink of collapse. Reports showed a steady decline in performance—investors losing faith, clients pulling away, and whispers of internal fraud spreading through the boardroom like smoke. The latest blow came when a major investor withdrew, claiming the company could no longer meet its contractual obligations.
The boardroom was heavy with tension that morning. Mike Lewis, now CEO, sat at the head of the table, staring at the figures projected on the screen. Every red mark on the spreadsheet felt like an accusation. His composure faltered; the mask of confidence he wore since his wife's departure had begun to crack.
"Gentlemen," Mike said finally, his tone unsteady. "There has to be an explanation."
One of the senior board members, a man with streaks of gray in his beard, sighed. "There is no trace of the missing funds. Either we're facing a massive operational leak or someone's gone through great lengths to cover their tracks."
Mike's jaw tightened. "Who would dare embezzle company money? How did no one notice?"
Jason, the new finance manager—the man who had replaced MK—shifted nervously in his seat. "We were following the old reporting structure. I only noticed the discrepancies after reconciling last month's books. Whoever did it, they knew the system better than anyone."
That last line hung in the air like a ghost. Everyone knew who had built that system.
And she wasn't in the room.
---
Across town, MK sat at the edge of a man-made lake, sunlight spilling across the rippling surface. She was laughing—really laughing—for the first time in months. Shriya sat beside her, a rare softness in her eyes, her fingers idly tracing circles on the wooden railing of their rented pedal boat.
The park was alive with families, couples, and children feeding ducks near the shore. MK had suggested the place herself, a sign that she was slowly stepping out of her cocoon. Shriya had agreed without hesitation, secretly grateful for any excuse to see her again.
They boarded one of the small boats—a cheerful yellow one with sun-faded seats and squeaky pedals. The kind that made people laugh halfway through because steering straight was nearly impossible. Shriya, of course, had insisted on taking control. MK had rolled her eyes, half-teasing, half-nervous.
For a while, they moved in silence, the rhythmic sound of water lapping against the sides of the boat filling the space between them. The quiet wasn't uncomfortable—if anything, it felt like a fragile peace neither wanted to break.
Then, out of nowhere, Shriya said, "You're beautiful."
MK blinked, startled. "Huh?"
"The view," Shriya said quickly, grinning. "It's beautiful."
"Oh." MK turned away, cheeks burning. "Yeah. It is."
Inside, her heart was betraying her. What's wrong with you, MK? Pull yourself together.
Shriya watched her, amusement tugging at the corner of her lips. There was something irresistibly honest about the way MK blushed—like she hadn't learned how to pretend yet. It made Shriya's chest tighten in a way she wasn't used to.
"You come here often?" Shriya asked, pedaling slower now.
MK shook her head. "No. I came once, back in high school. It was a school trip. I told myself I'd come back someday… I just didn't think it would be with someone like you."
"Someone like me?" Shriya raised an eyebrow, feigning offense.
MK chuckled. "I meant—someone unexpected."
She began to tell the story of that trip: the races they held on the lake, the chaos when one of her classmates fell in, how they all jumped in to "rescue" her and nearly drowned themselves. Shriya listened without interrupting, the sound of MK's laughter more captivating than the story itself. The way her eyes lit up, how her shoulders relaxed when she talked about her past—it was intoxicating.
"You know," Shriya murmured, leaning closer, "I like it when you smile like that."
MK turned, startled by how close she was. The playful smile on Shriya's lips faded into something softer, deeper. Their eyes locked, and the world seemed to slow around them.
MK's mind began its usual tug-of-war. No. You can't. She's a criminal. A woman. A mistake.
But her heart was whispering something else—something reckless and terrifyingly honest. If you don't feel this now, you might never feel anything again.
Shriya's gaze flickered down to her lips. She wanted to look away, to suppress the memory of what she had done to MK—the guilt that gnawed at her every time she saw her smile—but she couldn't. There was gravity in that silence, a pull neither of them could fight.
MK was the first to break.
Her breath hitched. Her pulse raced.
And then—she didn't think, didn't plan—she simply leaned in.
Their lips met softly at first, hesitant, like testing a boundary neither had permission to cross. Then the hesitation melted. The world fell away. There was only warmth, breath, and the trembling certainty that something irreversible was happening.
It wasn't lust. It wasn't pity. It was a strange, tender collision of two broken people who, somehow, found solace in each other's ruin.
When MK finally pulled back, her eyes were wide, her lips parted as if she had forgotten how to breathe.
"Shriya…" she whispered, voice barely audible.
Before Shriya could respond, MK's phone buzzed violently in her hand, shattering the moment.
---
"Hello?" MK answered, still catching her breath.
"Thank God you picked up," came a familiar voice—panicked, desperate. "MK, I need your help."
MK's heart dropped. "Mike?"
"Please, just listen," he pleaded. "The company's in trouble. Serious trouble."
MK froze. Her entire body stiffened as if her old life had just walked through the door. "Mike," she said coldly, "we have nothing to talk about."
"MK, please. The investors are pulling out. The board wants solutions, and I—I told them the current project was your idea. They want you back."
MK's jaw tightened. Of course he did.
Even now, he was still using her name to clean up his mess.
"And what exactly does this have to do with me?" she asked, feigning disinterest while her mind was already racing through damage-control scenarios. Starlight was her company. Her blood, her effort, her vision. She couldn't just let it burn.
"I'll do anything," Mike said quickly. "Name your terms."
MK hesitated, her eyes darting toward Shriya, who was watching her quietly, trying not to intrude. "You want me back?" MK said finally. "Then I want a name."
"A name?"
"The person you hired to ruin my reputation. I want the truth."
Mike sounded stunned. "I didn't—MK, I don't know who did it, but I'll find out, I swear."
"My reputation," she continued, voice rising. "I lost everything because of you."
"I'll fix it," he said immediately. "I'll tell the media the video was fake. I'll clear your name."
"And your infidelity?" MK spat.
"It was never about you! Whoever framed you used me as bait."
MK's laugh was bitter. "You're unbelievable."
"I'll compensate you, MK. Anything. Just come back."
There was a long pause. MK's fingers trembled slightly, the anger and humiliation she thought she'd buried bubbling to the surface.
"Fine," she said finally. "But I want my old job back. And a raise."
"We already have a new finance manager," Mike said, hesitation creeping in. "But… the board agreed to make you Deputy CEO."
MK blinked. "Deputy—what?"