Laughter burst across the skating hall like echoes bouncing off glass and metal. Two figures clung desperately to the railing—one trembling, one smirking.
Shriya wobbled first.
Her skates slipped outward like a newborn deer learning to walk. She grabbed the rail with both hands, leaning forward as though gravity personally selected her as a target.
"I thought people like you were supposed to know how to skate," MK taunted, arms folded, chin tilted smugly upward.
"People like me?" Shriya raised an eyebrow, breath uneven as she tried to stand straighter.
"Yeah. You know… tough, fearless, crime-boss-y." MK waved a hand. "Shouldn't you automatically know how to skate, ride a bike, swim, fight…?"
"I already know how to fight," Shriya muttered.
"Exactly. So skating should be easy!" MK declared confidently—just before she pushed off the rail.
Right foot. Left foot. A small glide.
"I think I got—"
MK fell so hard the sound echoed like a gunshot.
"Ouch! My spine!" she cried as pain shot across her body. She lay on the cold floor, glaring at the ceiling like it personally betrayed her.
Shriya didn't move to help—she fell to her knees laughing so hard she nearly toppled over again. "You lasted two seconds!"
"You're supposed to pretend I did great," MK groaned.
"Why? This is entertainment."
They spent the next hour attempting to teach each other. Which really meant: MK theorizing loudly while falling repeatedly, and Shriya improving only enough to fall more gracefully. Eventually, an instructor took pity on them and held MK's hand as she wobbled across the hall. Shriya glared jealously at the instructor the entire time.
"Why didn't he hold my hand?" she muttered.
"He tried," MK whispered back. "You threatened him with your eyes."
After skating, the two drifted to a neon-lit gaming arcade. The halls buzzed with digital gunshots, children shouting, and machines chiming in victory.
MK grabbed a plastic laser gun and posed dramatically. "Prepare to lose."
"Cute," Shriya smirked.
Two minutes later, MK was crouching behind a virtual crate screaming, "Who programmed these enemies? They're cheating!"
Shriya calmly shot every target with surgical precision, barely blinking.
"Do you do this for a living? Are you sure you're not actually a mercenary?" MK asked, staring at the scoreboard.
"Maybe," Shriya teased, shrugging.
MK blinked. "…That wasn't a no."
Shriya just smirked.
They competed at every game—hoops, racing, claw machines. Shriya dominated anything that required precision, MK won anything that required strategy.
By the time they left, the sky had shifted into a soft twilight, streetlights flickering on one by one.
"Let's have dinner together," MK said casually, brushing her hair back.
Shriya blinked in surprise, then smiled. "I'd like that."
They found a quiet restaurant tucked between bookstores. Candlelit tables. Soft music. People talking in low murmurs. They sat at a table for two, facing each other, hands occasionally brushing when they reached for water.
Halfway through waiting for their meals, Shriya's expression grew serious. She reached across the table and held MK's hand gently.
"MK… did I do something wrong?" she asked, voice low, almost fragile.
MK's heart skipped. The sincerity in her eyes was disarming.
"No. You did nothing wrong," MK said softly.
"Then why did you leave so suddenly that morning?" Shriya asked, thumb brushing MK's knuckles slowly. "I wouldn't want to push you into something you didn't want."
MK swallowed. "I wanted it. I… just got scared."
"Scared of what?" Shriya asked gently.
MK looked down. "You. Everything."
"Because of what I do?" Shriya leaned closer. "MK, I would never hurt you."
"I know. It's not that," MK whispered. "It's the way you make me feel. It's new and confusing and… I didn't want to ruin it."
Shriya's lips curved slowly. "This is new to me too."
MK blinked. "You've never been with a girl?"
"No." Shriya looked away briefly. "This feeling—I've never felt it for anyone."
The confession landed between them like a fragile truth neither expected to speak aloud.
MK hesitated. "How many people… have you been with?"
Shriya inhaled sharply. "Wow. We're doing that?"
"You don't have to answer," MK said, suddenly shy.
"Thirteen," Shriya said honestly.
MK nodded slowly. "Oh."
Shriya watched her. "That bothers you."
"No," MK said. a pang of jealous creeping in. 'did I expect her to be waiting for me, 'she thought.
Over the next few weeks, weekends blurred into shared routines. They explored museums, parks, cafés. Some days they stayed at MK's apartment watching movies or cooking. Other nights they met at the club, where Shriya kept one hand on MK's back the entire time without realizing it.
Jesse and Rebecca became accustomed to finding the two together.
They teased. They rolled their eyes. They gossiped.
MK pretended not to care.
Shriya pretended to be unaffected.
Neither fooled anyone.
Shriya's friends—Peach and Leah—also got involved.
"You're basically in a relationship," Peach said.
"No we're not," Shriya insisted.
"You check your phone every five minutes," Leah pointed out.
"You stop fights early now," Peach added.
"You smile at your phone. You never smile at your phone."
"Okay! Enough!" Shriya grumbled.
MK wasn't any better. She daydreamed in meetings. She triple-checked her phone. She scolded Jesse more often—mostly because Jesse made fun of her more often.
The truth was simple:
They were falling deeper.
And neither was prepared for the intensity.
Today they were having dinner at their now favorite spot,.When the food arrived, they ate slowly, talking about childhood memories, work, fears, dreams—things neither had spoken aloud in years.
As they walked outside, MK felt lighter, as if her chest wasn't constantly being squeezed.
Shriya reached for her hand.
MK didn't pull away.
"You know…" MK whispered, "I… like this. Us."
Shriya squeezed her hand. "Then let's take it slow. No pressure. No running away."
MK smiled shyly.
"Deal."
Shriya leaned in, brushing her lips against MK's temple—a gesture so gentle it almost hurt.
For the first time in weeks, MK didn't overthink.
She simply leaned into her.
And in the quiet glow of city lights, they kept walking—two silhouettes drifting into the night, unaware of how deeply intertwined their lives were about to become.