MK stood in the doorway, still half-smiling, still carrying the small surprise she'd brought for Shriya. The plan had been simple: finish a long, exhausting week, show up at the club unannounced, steal a kiss, and drag her girlfriend away for a quiet evening.
It wasn't the first time she'd done it.
Sometimes Shriya picked her up from work.
Sometimes MK showed up at the club.
A rhythm. A routine. A comfort.
But tonight, the moment she stepped inside… the room snapped into silence.
Peach's voice broke through the air like a knife:
"—MK."
Three faces froze.
Four hearts stopped.
And then she heard the rest.
Not spoken to her, but spoken about her — loud enough to cut her open.
"…you do know SHE was the one who filmed the video…"
The floor didn't move, but MK swore something inside her shifted, unlatched, fell.
She blinked.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Her mind began stitching sentences together in a panic.
What video?
She was there?
Recording… everything?
Just standing there… watching?
And then sending it out for the world to see?
A pressure built in her chest — brutal, suffocating — like her ribs were caving inward.
Her voice came out thin, breaking around the edges, more breath than sound:
"It was you… who took the video?"
Shriya didn't move.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't even reach out.
She only nodded.
A small, fragile movement — but enough to tear the remaining pieces of MK apart.
The world blurred then, sound draining away, vision tunneling.
MK staggered backward.
For a moment she wasn't sure if she was standing or falling or dreaming.
Because reality couldn't possibly hurt this much.
This woman —
This protector —
This lover —
The person whose heartbeat had once synced with hers —
She was behind the humiliation?
She let the world strip MK bare?
She let strangers dissect her dignity?
MK had taught herself never to cry in front of anyone.
She had been strong through years of struggle.
She had rebuilt herself from nothing.
She had been shamed online, mocked, fired, pitied — and she never broke publicly.
But this…
This was different.
This was intimate.
This was betrayal wrapped inside love.
And for the first time in years, tears rolled, unstoppable, cutting down her face like they were carving the truth onto her skin.
Her throat closed so tightly she could barely breathe, let alone speak.
Shriya stepped forward, voice trembling:
"MK… I can explain. It was—"
But MK didn't stay long enough to listen.
She turned — and ran.
She didn't feel the cold.
Didn't feel the pavement biting her bare foot.
Didn't feel the wind clawing at her clothes.
She only felt the pain.
That deep, clawing pain ripping her chest open.
She ran until her lungs burned raw and her legs gave out, collapsing onto the ground somewhere she didn't recognize. The dark sky above her blurred with tears. Her breath trembled, uneven and sharp.
Only then did she notice she had nothing with her — no bag, no phone, no coat.
If the moment had been different, she might've laughed at the absurdity of running out wearing only one shoe.
But she couldn't laugh.
She couldn't even think straight.
How could she record me?
How could she just stand there?
How could she let someone… take…
Her mind shut down the rest.
The implication itself shattered her.
MK curled in on herself, hands shaking violently.
Her thoughts became fragments, jagged pieces stabbing the inside of her skull:
This can't be real.
Not her.
Not Shriya.
She wouldn't… she couldn't…
Why does it hurt so much?
Why does it feel like someone ripped out my heart through my ribs?
Her chest tightened again, and again she could feel her consciousness slipping.
Everything felt far away — voices, lights, time — all drowned by the raw ache pulsing through her.
Meanwhile, Shriya was tearing through the city.
She had been searching for nearly an hour, panic twisting her guts. The car was still parked. MK's phone was still in her hand, ringing helplessly. Every call she made mocked her — vibrating in her palm instead of in MK's pocket.
Peach and Leah searched the alleys.
Jesse canvassed the places MK usually visited.
Rebecca checked the company building, calling contacts.
But MK was nowhere.
Until finally — Peach whispered urgently into the phone:
"I found her."
Shriya didn't wait.
Didn't breathe.
She ran.
She ran faster than she ever had, reaching the place Peach described.
She spotted MK lying on the ground — small, broken, shaking.
Peach whispered, "Is she sleeping?"
Shriya knelt beside her, hands trembling as she gently touched MK's shoulder.
"MK… MK, hey—"
MK stirred, eyes fluttering, confused…
Then she saw who was holding her.
The reaction was instant — and brutal.
MK jerked back, scrambling away.
Her voice cracked with a raw, wounded scream:
"What are you doing here?"
The realization of everything hit her again — all at once — and the pain reignited fresh and violent.
"How could you do that to me?"
Her voice split like something tearing inside her.
Shriya felt her heart drop.
Tears slid freely now.
"MK… I'm sorry. I'm really, really sor—"
MK cut her off, sobbing, voice shaking with fury and grief:
"You're sorry? What will sorry FIX?
Will it give me back my dignity?
The shame?
The way people looked at me?
The way I had to rebuild my whole life from the ashes?"
Shriya opened her mouth, but no words came.
Nothing she said could compete with MK's pain.
"I didn't mean to—" she tried.
MK's voice exploded:
"What didn't you mean, Shriya?
The part where you FILMED it?
Or the part where you LET someone take my innocence while you just STOOD there?
Which part wasn't intentional?"
Shriya froze — because MK had misunderstood.
Horribly.
Painfully.
But MK was spiraling too deep to hear anything.
"I trusted you," MK whispered — the quietest, most devastating sentence of the night. "I defended you. I even… fell for you. Did you ever even love me, Shriya?"
Shriya's breath hitched.
She did love her.
She loved her more than she'd ever loved anyone.
But MK wasn't done.
"Did you know… that until that night… I was a virgin?"
Her voice trembled.
"I wanted my first time to be with someone special. Not broadcasted. Not mocked. Not something the world could pause, zoom, rewind."
Her tears stopped suddenly — replaced by a chilling, empty calm.
A wall rose inside her — higher than ever before.
"Well," she said tonelessly, "I don't know how many more videos you have of me. So go ahead. Share them with the world or the universe. I don't care anymore."
She dusted off her clothes, wiped her face, steadied her breathing.
Then she met Shriya's eyes with a cold, unreadable expression.
It said:
We are strangers now.
Don't ever show your face to me again.
MK walked away.
Shriya stayed frozen — unable to move, unable to speak.
She deserved this.
She knew she did.
But knowing didn't make it hurt any less.
It felt like someone had scooped out her chest and left her hollow.
Finally, the dam broke.
"MK!" she screamed into the empty night.
"Please—!"
She collapsed to her knees.
"I love you…"
The whisper escaped, small and shattered.
But MK was gone.