"Sure," MK said, forcing a smile that fooled no one—not even herself.
Shriya scrolled through the movie list and landed on a comedy. MK immediately shook her head. "No. Action."
Shriya blinked. "Action?"
"Yeah." MK took the remote from her. "Comedy is for people who don't suffer enough in real life."
Shriya stared, surprised, then slid a little to the right to give MK room to sit. Her movements were slow, like she wasn't sure if MK would accept the space or choose to flee.
MK typed quickly into the search bar, selecting a title she knew by heart.
"Isn't it better to watch something new?" Shriya asked, half teasing, half genuinely curious.
MK didn't even look at her. "It's my favorite series."
Shriya's lips curved. "You want me to watch your favorite mov—"
"Don't get excited," MK cut in, grinning. "I watched it with Jesse too."
Shriya's face dropped instantly. "You didn't have to rub it in."
"No way—are you actually jealous?" MK teased.
"What if I am?" Shriya said, leaning in.
MK's breath hitched. The teasing evaporated. Shriya wasn't smiling anymore—she was looking at her in that unguarded, hungry way that made MK's entire nervous system malfunction. MK turned abruptly toward the screen.
"Let's watch the comedy you suggested," she muttered.
Shriya leaned back slowly. If disappointment had a shape, it was sitting on that sofa with crossed arms and a tight jaw.
MK forced her attention to the screen, but her mind refused to cooperate. Each time she blinked she could still feel the warmth of Shriya leaning closer. The movie's end credits rolled long before she realized she hadn't absorbed a single scene.
She turned—and froze.
Shriya was asleep.
Somehow she looked disarmingly peaceful, her features soft and unguarded in a way MK had never seen before. No sharpness, no steel. Just… silent beauty.
"What in the world…" MK whispered.
Carefully—too carefully—she lifted Shriya and settled her on the couch, draping a blanket over her. She hesitated, staring down at her for a second longer than necessary.
"No way am I offering you my bed," she muttered to herself. "You can stay here. Or go home. Your choice."
She retreated to her room like she was escaping a battlefield.
---
Monday arrived like a slap.
Too fast. Too loud. Too real.
MK sat in her office, flipping through documents with the precision of a surgeon and the rage of someone discovering fresh incompetence. Rebecca stood across from her, watching MK's expression darken with every page.
Red marks. Wrong entries. Miscalculations.
Whoever had tampered with the finances knew exactly what they were doing.
Rebecca swallowed. MK's silence was scarier than her shouting.
The younger woman had returned as MK's secretary the moment MK stepped back into the building. She had refused the CEO's secretary position months ago just so she could stay by MK's side—loyalty that MK rewarded with trust, respect, and shared lunches at the same table.
"Rebecca," MK finally said, handing her a stack of printouts. "Trace this."
"I'll try," Rebecca replied, though her expression said I doubt I'll find anything.
She left, and MK rubbed her temples. "Oh, you better pray I never find out who did this."
A knock interrupted her storm of frustration.
"Come in."
"MK," a voice said, too familiar and too unwelcome.
MK looked up. Her mood plummeted. "What do you want?"
Mike stood at the doorway, holding a folder like it was a peace offering. Or a shield. Maybe both.
"MK, I'm sorry, I—"
"Miss Michelle," MK said.
He blinked. "…MK is fine."
'Miss? Mrs? Ah, English is a scam,' MK thought. She was great with numbers—but titles? Never her thing.
"If you're here for company matters, sit. If not, leave. I'm busy."
Mike hesitated, then sat.
"I brought the project file," he said, sliding it forward. "The clients want to handle things differently this time. They insisted you oversee it."
"I'll check it later." MK pointed at a page. "Explain this loss. Five months and it looks like a black hole."
Mike leaned in, pointing. "We fired the first replacement. Too many errors. But even the new finance manager… well… the losses continued. We had more clients than before, but profits didn't match."
MK sighed. Hard.
"Look here." She tapped with her pen. "The flaw is in the subtraction. They used a different number after allocating funds. The overall math looks correct but the core figures are wrong."
She glanced at him. "Honestly, it fooled me for a second."
Mike stared blankly.
"…I don't understand," he admitted.
MK groaned. "Whoever did this knows the system extremely well."
She paused.
"That should clear you, since you're the dumbest person alive."
Both laughed. A moment of their old dynamic flickered—and then died as quickly as it came.
"I'll leave you to it," Mike said. At the door he stopped. "It's good to have you back, MK."
He disappeared before she could respond.
Rebecca returned, shaking her head. "I can't find anything. Whoever hid this knew exactly how to bury the trail."
MK leaned back, a headache stirring behind her eyes. "Let's go out. Jesse invited us to a party."
She pocketed her phone, the weight of responsibility and frustration settling deep in her bones.
Rebecca blinked. "A party? After this?"
MK sighed. "If I stare at numbers any longer, they'll start insulting me."
Rebecca snorted. "Fair point."
MK grabbed her coat.
But even as she walked toward the elevator, her thoughts were tangled—not with numbers… but with Shriya's sleeping face… her warmth on the couch… her voice asking, What if I am jealous?
MK swallowed.
She had survived poverty, humiliation, betrayal, and losing everything.
But this—whatever this feeling was—felt far more dangerous.
And she couldn't decide if she was ready to run from it…
or straight into it.