"MK."
Her name cut through the noise of the hallway like a thread pulled taut. MK turned automatically, pulse jumping, and found Shriya rushing toward her—sharp-eyed, breath tight, worry written all over her face.
"What happened?" Shriya grabbed MK's hand before she could pull it away.
MK winced. "Ah—sorry. I didn't mean to. It was just the mirror. I—"
"Wow," Shriya muttered, already inspecting the hand with practiced movements. "You still have anger issues. I told you not to hold everything in—"
She abruptly stopped, blinking. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scold you."
She softened her grip, but not enough for MK's nerves to stop rattling. "Let me check that."
When Shriya's fingers closed over her hand again, MK felt her blood vanish from her face. Shriya's palm was cold, unnervingly cold, but Shriya didn't seem to notice; she was too focused on MK's wound, turning her hand gently, carefully, as if it were something fragile.
Without looking up, Shriya reached for her phone, typed fast, and hit send.
"someone will bring the first aid kit."
She tore a tissue, spreading it on the counter to place the fallen shards. When her fingers brushed one of the larger pieces still embedded in MK's skin, Shriya exhaled, murmuring, "Hold still." Then she pulled.
MK hissed, shoulders tightening.
"We need to remove the shards before cleaning it," Shriya said, her voice steady, her eyes steady—too steady.
MK forced a shaky laugh. "I didn't know you were a doctor."
"I'm not." Shriya shrugged slightly, not once glancing up. "I just know a few tricks. Had to patch myself up once in a while."
There was something in the tone—too casual, too normal for something that wasn't normal at all. MK watched her, really watched her, taking in the serious concentration on her face, the slight furrow in her brow, the strength held in her arms. Shriya wasn't beautiful in the glamorous sense Ashley was. No. She had a quiet, disarming kind of beauty—athletic, tall, sharp-edged but gentle-handed.
Cute stud, MK thought, her pulse tripping over the words inside her chest.
And suddenly the pain in her hand didn't matter. Her thoughts were tangled, loud, messy—just like her breathing. Every time Shriya leaned closer, MK's heart thrashed harder.
And worst of all?
Shriya looked so calm.
So unbothered.
So… moved on.
She really did move on, MK thought bitterly, remembering the girl she'd seen with Shriya. Her stomach twisted. She wanted to pull her hand away and leave. Run. Hide.
But Shriya didn't look up.
Didn't notice the storm she'd triggered.
Didn't see MK drowning.
Because Shriya was drowning too—just silently, tightly, fighting herself with every breath.
She has a girlfriend. She's happy. Don't ruin it.
She glued her gaze to the wound, terrified to look at MK and lose control.
The first aid kit arrived, brought by the woman Shriya had texted. The woman bowed slightly, then placed the kit beside them. Shriya immediately grabbed the antiseptic.
The sting snapped MK back into the present. "Ouch—"
"Sorry," Shriya murmured.
Then she leaned in closer—and blew gently on the wound as she added the medicine.
MK's lungs forgot what breathing was.
Her eyes dropped to Shriya's pink lips, parted slightly as she blew cool air over her skin.
MK swallowed hard.
Her body reacted before her mind could fight it—a pull, a warmth, a want curling behind her ribs. Her breathing turned quick, too quick, and she tried whispering to herself, Calm down, calm down, calm down, but it didn't work.
She bit her lower lip.
And Shriya looked up.
Her eyes landed on MK's lip—on the smear of blood.
"You have blood on your—ahh—" Shriya didn't finish. Instinctively, she reached out to wipe it off.
The moment her fingers touched MK's mouth, everything stopped.
MK's breath hitched sharply.
Shriya froze too, eyes widening, her fingertips trembling slightly on MK's lip.
And MK didn't know what happened next.
One second she was staring at Shriya's lips.
The next—she closed the distance.
The kiss hit them both like lightning.
Shriya's inhale stuttered. MK's entire body went unbearably hot, a rush of something breaking loose inside her chest. The world vanished—walls, noise, logic—everything drowned under that single point of contact.
MK kissed her harder, deeper, desperate, starving, unstoppable.
Shriya let her.
She let her drown.
MK didn't realize she'd pushed Shriya against the wall until she felt the sudden resistance behind Shriya's back. She didn't care. She wanted more—needed more—and leaned into it, breathless, clinging to the moment like it was oxygen.
Shriya's resolve crumbled. She kissed back, slowly at first, then with a need she'd buried for too long.
Not here.
Not now.
Not public.
Not safe.
Her mind screamed it, but her body betrayed her—hands sliding to MK's waist, pulling her closer.
Then she regained a sliver of sanity and reversed them, pushing MK gently but firmly against the wall instead—trying, failing, trying again to control herself.
"Boss."
The voice was sharp. Too close.
MK jolted, breath ragged, dizzy. But before she could even turn toward the sound, Shriya grabbed her, pulling MK's face into her chest, shielding her completely.
Shriya turned her own head toward the voice—and froze.
At least seven women stood there.
Talking. Whispering. Staring.
"Did you see who that was?" someone asked.
"Quiet! That's Shriya! Do you want her to cut your tongue out?" another hissed.
When the crowd realized it was indeed Shriya, they recoiled instantly—but still whispered.
"I wonder who would move such a cold-hearted monster…"
"Maybe she's a victim. Being forced."
"Oh no, poor thing. She must have been threatened."
Then someone gasped. "Blood!"
They all turned to the shattered mirror.
Shriya's eyes sharpened.
"Out."
Her voice was low, lethal, commanding.
They scrambled away.
Except one.
Sarah.
"Yes?" Shriya asked, her tone clipped.
"A fight broke out," Sarah said quietly.
"Then handle it."
"I tried." She bowed. "Boss… they're from strong families. The governor's son and the CEO's heir."
Shriya cursed under her breath. Offending either could shut down the entire club.
"Keep it under control. I'm coming." Her hand remained protective on MK's head, arm braced against the wall, shielding her from every angle.
MK felt everything—Shriya's heartbeat hammering like a war drum beneath her ear. It shook her. Moved her.
She's protecting me.
She didn't let them see me.
If not for her… I'd be headlines tomorrow.
When Sarah finally left, MK slowly lifted her head from Shriya's chest.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Shriya met her eyes