The morning sun rose gently over the Shamshabad farmhouse, casting long, pale golden shadows across the stone pillars of the wide verandah. It was late April, and the nationwide lockdown had long since settled into a quiet, unbroken rhythm.
Outside the heavy iron gates of the estate, the world remained frozen in a state of suspended animation. Inside, however, the day had already begun to breathe.
Krithika sat in one of the wicker chairs on the verandah, her hands wrapped comfortably around a warm ceramic mug of spiced tea. Ronnie lay sprawled across the cool stone floor next to her chair, his tail giving a lazy, rhythmic thump against the ground when she absentmindedly rested her bare foot against his side. The air was crisp, carrying the faint, earthy scent of the surrounding mango orchards. From inside the ground floor of the house, the muffled, joyful shriek of her daughter, Aadhya, echoed briefly, followed by the low, rumbling chuckle of her father, Subba Rao.
The twins were safely occupied with their grandparents, leaving the verandah peaceful.
A moment later, the screen door slid open. Anjali walked out, wearing a pair of comfortable cotton pajamas and an oversized t-shirt, her hair pulled up into a messy, haphazard knot. She held her own mug of tea, her eyes still slightly heavy with sleep.
She dropped into the wicker chair opposite Krithika, letting out a exaggerated sigh.
"Good morning to you too," Krithika murmured, taking a slow sip of her tea.
"Morning," Anjali mumbled into her mug. She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them, and stared out at the quiet expanse of the front lawn.
For several minutes, neither sister spoke. The comfortable silence of the morning stretched between them. They watched a pair of rabbits wandering near the edge of the treeline. Ronnie's ears perked up slightly at the sight of them. He let out a soft, huffing breath through his nose, but deemed the rabbits unworthy of a morning chase and rested his heavy chin back on his paws.
Krithika lowered her mug to her lap. She looked across the small glass table at her younger sister.
Anjali was staring blankly at the lawn, but there was a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It was the same soft, distant expression she had been wearing sporadically for the past three weeks.
Krithika let the silence hold for another minute, allowing the atmosphere to remain casual.
"So," Krithika said, her voice light and conversational. "Who were you talking to on the laptop yesterday afternoon?"
Anjali didn't flinch, but her thumb stopped tracing the rim of her ceramic mug. The faint smile vanished, replaced instantly by a mask of nonchalance.
"Just a friend," Anjali answered smoothly, not looking away from the lawn.
"A friend," Krithika repeated, testing the word.
"Yes. A friend from the office. We were just catching up on some design work for the studio."
Krithika rested her head against the high back of the wicker chair. She studied her sister's profile. She knew the subtle micro-expressions of her sibling better than anyone else in the world. She saw the slight tightening of Anjali's shoulders and the deliberate way she avoided making eye contact.
"Anjali," Krithika said, her tone shifting from conversational to maternal. "Do you really think I'm an idiot?"
Anjali finally turned her head, blinking in feigned innocence. "What? I'm telling the truth."
"You locked your bedroom door for two hours," Krithika pointed out effortlessly. "You were sitting in the corner of your room, whispering at your screen. And when I walked in to ask you about lunch, you slammed the laptop shut so fast I thought you were going to snap the hinges off, and immediately started talking to me about the weather. We have been in lockdown for a month. The weather hasn't changed once."
Anjali shifted uncomfortably in her chair, lowering her legs to the floor. "I just wanted some privacy. The house is crowded."
"I also fell in love once, you know," Krithika reminded her gently, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table. "I know what it looks like. I know the secret smiles at the phone. I know the whispering. I know the sudden need to isolate yourself just to have a ten-minute conversation."
Anjali looked down at her tea, her cheeks dusting with a faint, unmistakable shade of pink.
"I told you everything when I was dating Sid," Krithika continued, her voice softening, dropping the interrogation tactic and offering an open door instead. "When we were trying to figure out how to handle everything, you were the first person I went to. You helped me manage Amma and Nanna. You covered for me when I needed to make calls or go out. We are in the middle of a global pandemic, Anjali. The world is literally shut down. You don't have to hide things from me."
Anjali remained silent, her fingers tracing the handle of her mug.
"So tell me who it is," Krithika pressed softly, a warm, supportive smile appearing on her face. "If he's good for you, I might even help you. If he's a decent guy, I'll be on your side when we eventually have to break it to Nanna."
Anjali let out a long, defeated breath. The rigid posture of denial finally cracked. She slumped back in her chair, looking up at the wooden beams of the verandah roof.
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Anjali mumbled.
"Not a chance," Krithika confirmed cheerfully. "Name. Now."
Anjali squeezed her eyes shut. She mumbled a word, but her voice was so low and muffled that it was swallowed by the ambient sound of the morning breeze.
Krithika frowned, leaning closer across the table. "What? I can't hear you. Stop mumbling into your shirt and say it clearly."
Anjali opened her eyes, looking anywhere but at her sister. She took a breath and tried again.
"You already know him."
Krithika's eyebrows shot up. Her posture instantly straightened, her curiosity skyrocketing. Someone they already knew? Her mind rapidly flipped through their mutual acquaintances, family friends, and the extended circles.
"Who?" Krithika demanded, her voice dropping into an excited whisper. "Is it someone from company?"
Anjali shook her head. She mumbled another word, her voice dropping an octave, refusing to make the syllables distinct.
Krithika let out an exasperated sigh, her patience wearing thin. "Anjali, for the love of God, say the name! You are twenty-four years old, stop acting like a schoolgirl!"
Anjali closed her eyes tightly, braced herself as if preparing for an impact, and finally blurts it out in one rapid, breathless rush.
"Arjun."
The word hung in the crisp morning air.
Krithika stopped moving. Her hand, which had been reaching for her tea, froze halfway across the table. She stared at her sister, her brain attempting to process the two syllables she had just heard. The gears of her mind ground to halt.
She blinked once. Then twice.
"Arjun?" Krithika asked, her voice flat.
Anjali kept her eyes squeezed shut and gave a tiny, miserable nod.
"Wait," Krithika said, holding up a hand, desperately needing clarification. "Which Arjun? Our Arjun?"
Anjali opened one eye, wincing slightly. "Our Arjun."
Krithika stared at her younger sister. Her mind immediately pulled up the image of Arjun Reddy. The CEO of the Nexus Corporation. Siddanth's oldest, closest friend. The man who wore perfectly tailored suits, operated with mechanical efficiency, managed billions of dollars in international logistics, and rarely raised his voice above a calm, measured register.
Then, she looked at Anjali. Anjali, who currently had her hair in a knot, who frequently spilled coffee on her own sketches, who argued with the television when her favorite characters made bad decisions, and who possessed the ambient volume of a small hurricane.
Krithika leaned back in her wicker chair. She let out an involuntary breath of disbelief.
"Anjali, please," Krithika said, her voice laced with dry amusement. "Shyness and you do not belong in the same bracket. Do not sit there looking like a blushing bride when you just told me you are dating the most serious man on the planet."
Anjali's eyes snapped open, the embarrassment instantly replaced by her usual defensive fire. "I am not blushing! And he isn't that serious!"
Krithika stared at her for another second, the absurdity of the pairing finally crashing over her. A small chuckle escaped her lips. She tried to suppress it by pressing a hand over her mouth, but it was useless. The chuckle bubbled into a laugh, and within seconds, she was laughing so hard she had to put her tea down before she spilled it.
"Stop it!" Anjali protested, grabbing a small decorative pillow from her chair and throwing it across the table. It bounced harmlessly off Krithika's arm. "It isn't funny!"
"It is incredibly funny," Krithika gasped, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. "I am trying to imagine Arjun dealing with you when you lose your temper because someone ate the last piece of chocolate. The poor man manages global supply chains; he is unprepared for your level of chaos."
"He handles my chaos fine, thank you," Anjali huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, though a reluctant, embarrassed smile was finally breaking through her defensive posture.
Once Krithika finally managed to get her laughter under control, she took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. She looked at her sister, the amusement fading into curiosity.
"How long?" Krithika asked softly.
Anjali looked down at her hands, her fingers picking nervously at a loose thread on her pajamas.
"It's been a year," Anjali admitted quietly.
Krithika's jaw actually dropped. She stared at her sister stunned.
A year? Over twelve months?
She mentally rewound the past year of their lives. The World Cup. The launch of the Nexus Sports League. The countless dinners at the farmhouse. The casual Sunday brunches where Arjun had sat at their dining table, eating with the family, discussing business with Deva.
Krithika realized with a shock that she had completely missed it. The subtle glances, the shared jokes, the quiet moments. They had hidden it flawlessly in plain sight.
"I didn't imagine you two together," Krithika said, her voice filled with awe. She shook her head slowly. "He is so... calm. He's organized. He plans his days in fifteen-minute increments. And you..."
Krithika let the sentence trail off, gesturing vaguely toward Anjali's general existence.
Anjali narrowed her eyes, giving Krithika a flat unimpressed look. "You're more hyper than me when you get anxious. And Sid is literally the most intense person alive. Don't act like you two are some perfectly matched set of calm monks."
Krithika opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. She thought about Deva's terrifying focus, his occasional bouts of dry sarcasm, and her own tendency to spiral into anxious planning. She looked back at Anjali.
Both sisters realized what the other was thinking at the same moment.
They both burst out laughing again, the tension breaking.
"Okay, fine. Fair point," Krithika conceded, holding her hands up in surrender. She smiled warmly, reaching across the table to squeeze Anjali's hand. "I am happy for you. Really. If he has managed to put up with you for a year, he must actually love you."
"Gee, thanks," Anjali muttered, though she squeezed her sister's hand back gratefully. The relief of finally having the secret out in the open was visible in the relaxing of her shoulders.
The laughter settled into a comfortable, quiet morning peace.
After a few minutes, Anjali shifted in her chair, a new wave of nervousness appearing on her face.
"So..." Anjali asked tentatively. "What now?"
Krithika didn't hesitate. Her strategic mind immediately kicked into gear.
"Now, we tell Sid first," Krithika stated firmly.
Anjali's eyes widened slightly. "Bava? Are you sure? What if he gets weird about it? Arjun is his best friend. What if he thinks it complicates the business or their friendship?"
"Siddanth doesn't get weird about anything," Krithika reassured her, waving off the concern. "He is the most practical human being on earth. But we have to tell him first. If we tell Amma and Nanna, there will be an immediate explosion of drama, questions, and demands for an astrological chart reading. If Sid knows, he will anchor the situation. He will handle Arjun, and he will help us manage Nanna."
Anjali nodded slowly, recognizing the brilliance of the plan. Siddanth Deva was the ultimate shield against family drama. If he blessed the relationship, their parents would fall in line without a second thought.
"After that," Krithika concluded, picking up her tea, "we tell our parents."
Anjali took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's tell Sid."
They finished their tea in comfortable silence, the weight of the morning having shifted from an interrogation to a conspiracy.
When they picked up their empty mugs and headed back inside the house, the ground floor was alive with the familiar noise of the family.
In the center of the living room, Aadhya was engaged in an uncoordinated dance routine, spinning in circles while clapping her hands to a song which was being played. Ronnie was lying on the rug nearby, acting as an exhausted audience member, occasionally receiving an overly enthusiastic pat on the head whenever Aadhya wobbled too close. Vikram and Subba Rao were sitting on the sofas, watching their granddaughter with amused eyes, occasionally clapping along to encourage her.
Near the window, Rishi was sitting quietly on the woven rug, ignoring his sister's performance. He had a small wooden puzzle box and was meticulously trying to fit a square block into a round hole, his brow furrowed in frustration. Sesikala and Suma were sitting nearby, quietly sorting through a basket of fresh vegetables from the estate gardens.
Krithika and Anjali walked past the living room, exchanging a subtle, conspiratorial glance.
"Where is he?" Anjali whispered as they reached the base of the wooden staircase.
"Upstairs in his office," Krithika replied softly. "He's been working on those aircraft and drone blueprints since breakfast."
They climbed the stairs together, their footsteps muffled by the heavy carpet. Ronnie, sensing a shift in the household's center of gravity, abandoned his post on the living room rug and trotted quietly up the stairs behind them. The first floor of the farmhouse was quiet. They walked down the hallway toward the heavy oak door of Deva's private study.
Krithika simply turned the brass handle and pushed the door open.
The office was a large, beautifully designed space. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one wall, while a massive, dark wood desk dominated the center of the room. Large windows looked out over the front of the estate, letting in a flood of natural light.
Deva was sitting behind the desk. His eyes were locked onto the large monitor of his Nexus laptop. A complex, three-dimensional wireframe model of an aerodynamic fuselage was rotating slowly on the screen. He was wearing a comfortable, dark green Zoro t-shirt, absorbed in the physics of his conceptual design.
Ronnie pushed past the sisters, trotted over to his usual spot beneath the large window, and collapsed into a comfortable heap with a heavy sigh.
Krithika walked in, a wide, mischievous smile already spreading across her face. Anjali followed a step behind her.
As they approached the desk, the sudden, unnatural silence of the younger sister finally caught Deva's attention. He stopped typing, his hands hovering over the keyboard, and looked up.
He saw Krithika's grinning face. Then, his eyes shifted to Anjali.
Anjali was standing with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was looking down at the carpet, her posture rigid, projecting an aura of shyness.
Deva stared at her for three seconds.
He slowly lowered his hands to the desk, folding them deliberately, and placed them next to the laptop. He looked back at his sister-in-law.
"Who are you?" Deva asked, his voice deadpan and serious. "And where is our Anjali? Did you tie her up in a closet and take her place?"
Anjali's shyness instantly evaporated. Her head snapped up, and she glared at him. "Shut up, Bava! I can be quiet!"
Krithika burst out laughing, dropping onto the plush leather sofa situated near the desk.
Deva chuckled softly, the dry joke successfully breaking the initial tension in the room. He reached out and closed the lid of his laptop.
He stood up from his desk chair and walked around to the front, leaning his lower back against the heavy wood, crossing his arms comfortably over his chest.
"Alright," Deva said, looking between the two sisters. "You both walk into my office. One of you looks like she just won the lottery, and the other looks like she's about to face a firing squad. What broke? Did you crash the car into the gate? Did Aadhya destroy the television?"
"Nobody broke anything," Krithika said, her eyes shining with mischief. She patted the empty spot on the sofa next to her. "Sit down, Anjali."
Anjali reluctantly walked over and sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa cushions.
Deva watched them, amused. He reached over to the small side table next to his desk and picked up a water bottle. He unscrewed the cap and took a slow, casual drink, waiting for them to explain the dramatic entrance.
Krithika watched him take the drink. Her timing was immaculate.
Right as Deva swallowed the water, Krithika leaned back casually against the sofa cushions and said in a conversational tone:
"The person she's seeing is your friend Arjun."
Deva choked. The water caught in his throat. He lunged forward, turning his head away from the women, and spat the remaining water, coughing loudly as he tried to clear his airway. He doubled over, resting one hand on his knee, hacking violently.
Ronnie immediately lifted his head from the floor by the window, letting out a confused, concerned whine at the sudden commotion.
Krithika's mischievous smile widened into a beam of triumph.
Anjali slapped a hand over her face, groaning loudly in mortification.
It took Deva a full ten seconds to recover. He stood back up, wiping a stray drop of water from his chin with the back of his hand, his chest heaving slightly. He leveled a glare at his wife.
"You deliberately told me that while I was drinking water, didn't you?" Deva accused, his voice still slightly raspy from the coughing fit.
Krithika didn't even attempt to deny it. She offered a unapologetic shrug. "I might have."
Deva shook his head, placing the water bottle back onto the table. He took a deep breath, resetting his posture, and looked at Krithika.
"Okay. Joke's over," Deva said, his tone returning to its usual, calm baseline. "Now tell me who she is actually seeing."
Krithika looked at him, her smile fading into a look of sincerity.
"We're not joking, Sid," Krithika said softly. She gestured toward her sister. "Arjun and Anjali are actually together."
Deva became still.
The silence in the office was absolute. He looked at Krithika. He saw the truth in her eyes. He slowly turned his head and looked at Anjali. Anjali was looking back at him, chewing nervously on her lower lip, waiting for his reaction.
Deva imagined Arjun. The man who optimized supply chain algorithms for fun. The man who rarely displayed emotion in a boardroom.
Then he looked at Anjali. The woman who had once accidentally set a microwave on fire trying to make instant noodles.
Deva stared at her. His shoulders began to shake.
He pressed his lips tightly together, trying to maintain his stoic composure, but the comedy of the situation was too much. A low sound escaped his throat. Then another.
Siddanth threw his head back and began to laugh.
It wasn't a quiet chuckle. It was a loud, echoing, unrestrained laugh that filled the office. He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms, shaking his head in disbelief, laughing so hard that his eyes began to water.
Anjali's shyness vanished, replaced instantly by offense.
She grabbed the nearest object—a plush, decorative throw pillow from the sofa—and hurled it at his head.
Deva caught the pillow effortlessly with one hand without breaking his laughter. Ronnie stood up from his spot by the window, his tail beginning to wag, assuming a new game had just been initiated.
"Stop laughing!" Anjali yelled, her face burning red. She pointed an accusing finger at him. "It is not a joke! We make a very good couple!"
Deva tossed the pillow back onto the sofa. He wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself, though a massive grin remained plastered across his face.
"Anjali," Deva said, his voice warm and sincere. "I know you'll be happy."
Anjali's defensive posture relaxed slightly. A small, grateful smile touched her lips.
"It's him I'm worried about," Deva added.
Krithika burst out laughing, clapping her hands together.
Anjali gasped in outrage. She grabbed a second pillow and threw it with maximum velocity. Deva dodged it smoothly, laughing loudly as the pillow hit the bookshelf behind him and knocked over a stack of technical manuals.
She grabbed a third pillow, preparing to launch it.
"Stop! Stop!" Deva laughed, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender, stepping away from the desk. "I'm joking. Put the artillery down."
Anjali lowered the pillow, though she kept a firm grip on it, eyeing him suspiciously.
"So," Krithika asked, recovering from her own laughter, leaning forward on the sofa. "Will you talk to our parents? If you tell Nanna that Arjun is a good match, he won't ask any questions. He respects your judgment more than anyone else's."
Deva looked at Krithika. He looked at Anjali, who was still holding the pillow like a shield.
A mischievous expression began to spread across Deva's face.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smartphone.
"Don't say anything," Deva commanded softly, pointing a finger at both of them.
Krithika saw the look in his eyes and immediately understood. A wicked smile appeared on her face. She sat back, crossing her legs, ready for the show.
Anjali, however, became suspicious. "What are you doing? Who are you calling?"
Deva ignored her. He tapped the screen and initiated a video call.
He held the phone up, positioning the camera so that it only captured his face and the bookshelves behind him, keeping the two women on the sofa out of the frame.
The line rang twice.
The screen connected.
Arjun's face appeared on the display. He was sitting in the study of his own farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. He was wearing a crisp, casual linen shirt, a digital tablet resting on the desk in front of him.
"Hey, Sid," Arjun greeted him, his voice carrying its usual calm, professional cadence. "I was just reviewing the logistics reports for the warehouse distributions. The supply lines are holding steady despite the lockdown extensions. What's up?"
"Nothing urgent," Deva replied smoothly. "Just checking in. How are the new server loads holding up with the company working remotely?"
"Flawlessly," Arjun answered, leaning back in his chair, relaxing into the familiar territory of corporate operations. "We haven't had a single crash. The transition protocol was perfect. I'm actually looking at expanding the cloud architecture next quarter if this lockdown stretches out."
They talked business for two minutes. Deva discussed a few philanthropic initiatives Nexus was quietly funding in the city. Arjun provided updates on the semiconductor plant's automated maintenance schedules.
It was a normal, mundane conversation between two billionaires managing an empire during a crisis.
"How are Uncle and Aunty handling the isolation?" Deva asked casually, shifting the topic.
"They're fine," Arjun smiled. "My mother has basically taken over the garden here, and my father is catching up on reading. They enjoy the quiet." Arjun paused, returning the courtesy. "How is everyone there? Krithika and the kids doing okay?"
"My parents are fine," Deva answered, his tone steady. "The kids are fine too. Krithika is holding the fort."
Deva let a heavy, dramatic sigh escape his lips. He ran a hand over his face, looking into the camera with an expression of exhaustion.
"Honestly, Arjun," Deva said, shaking his head. "It's the sister that's making me crazy."
On the sofa outside the camera's view, Anjali's mouth dropped open. She stared at Deva, outrage flashing in her eyes. Krithika slapped a hand over her own mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
On the phone screen, Arjun's relaxed posture vanished instantly.
He stiffened. His eyes darted slightly to the left, a microscopic tell of anxiety. He cleared his throat lightly.
"Anjali?" Arjun asked, his voice losing just a fraction of its usual smooth confidence. "Is she... causing trouble?"
This was the opening. Deva did not hesitate. He walked straight through it.
"Trouble is an understatement," Deva complained, leaning closer to the camera, lowering his voice as if sharing a painful secret with his best friend. "She and Krithika disappear into a room and gossip for hours. And the volume, Arjun. My God, the volume. That girl has a mouth you can hear from a kilometer away."
Off-camera, Anjali picked up the throw pillow again, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the fabric. She looked ready to commit murder. Deva ignored her keeping his eyes locked on the screen.
Arjun gave a nervous laugh. He shifted his weight in his chair, clearly sweating under the pressure of trying to agree with his best friend while simultaneously defending the woman he loved.
"Come on, Sid," Arjun chuckled weakly, attempting a diplomatic defense. "She's... she's not that loud. She's just energetic."
"Don't be modest, Arjun," Deva said, waving a hand dismissively. "Say what you actually think. You know how she is. Just yesterday, she decided she wanted to 'help' in the kitchen. She somehow managed to use every single pot and pan my mother owns to make a simple pasta. She creates double the work for everyone else."
Deva let out another long sigh, shaking his head mournfully. Ronnie, completely oblivious to the digital sabotage occurring above him, walked over and nudged Deva's knee with his wet nose, asking for a scratch. Deva absently complied, his fingers rubbing behind the dog's ears, keeping his eyes locked on the screen.
"Honestly, man," Deva joked, his tone dry and merciless. "It's like having a third baby in the house."
On the sofa, Anjali silently mouthed the words, Third baby?! and raised the pillow above her head, preparing to strike. Krithika grabbed her arm, pulling her back down, tears of silent laughter streaming down her face.
On the screen, Arjun looked like a man standing on a landmine. His facade was cracking under the psychological strain.
"She means well," Arjun offered, his voice slightly higher than usual, desperately trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. "She's very creative. Creative people are often a bit... disorganized."
Deva stopped talking. He stared at the screen, letting the silence drag out for three agonizing seconds.
Leaning into the camera, his expression shifted into one of suspicion. "Why are you defending her?" he asked, his voice dropping dangerously low.
Arjun froze.
"I... I'm not defending her," Arjun stammered, eyes widening.
Deva tilted his head, studying his friend with a piercing, analytical gaze. "Do you like her or something?"
Panic immediately set in.
"No! No, no, no," Arjun rushed out, his hands appearing in the frame, waving frantically in denial. "Sid, why would I like... I mean, she's great, but no. I'm just being objective."
Watching him sweat for another second, Deva slowly nodded. His expression softened back into relaxed agreement, as if convinced by the lie.
"Good," Deva sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Because I was about to question your sanity. You know how she watches movies?"
Arjun blinked. "Movies?"
"Yes. It is impossible to watch anything with her," Deva complained, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. "She pauses the film every ten minutes to analyze the plot holes. If a character makes a bad decision, she yells at the television. Who does that?"
Off-camera, Anjali's jaw dropped. She looked at Krithika in outrage, pointing an accusing finger at the phone. Krithika just clamped a hand over her own mouth, shaking with silent laughter.
Arjun shifted nervously, adjusting his collar. Trapped between agreeing with his best friend and protecting his secret girlfriend, he opted for a weak middle ground.
"Well, she is very passionate about storytelling," Arjun tried softly. "But yes, I suppose pausing a movie that often... could ruin the pacing."
Deva nodded solemnly, sensing blood in the water. "Exactly. And don't get me started on her organization skills. Or the complete lack thereof."
Arjun swallowed hard.
"Just last week, she spent twenty minutes frantically searching the house for her phone," Deva continued, his tone dry and relentless. "Do you know where it was?"
Arjun gave a tiny, miserable shake of his head.
"In her hand, Arjun. She was using the flashlight on her phone to look under the sofa for her phone."
Anjali gasped silently. Grabbing a throw pillow, her knuckles turned white as she gripped the fabric.
"Imagine having to live with that level of scatterbrained chaos every single day. The constant online shopping boxes piling up by the door. The half-empty cups of tea left on every flat surface. It's exhausting."
He paused, offering his best friend a look of solidarity.
"Honestly, Arjun... whoever marries her is going to suffer."
Arjun blinked, trapped in the nightmare.
"Think about it," Deva pressed relentlessly, spinning the hypothetical scenario with terrifying accuracy. "It's going to be a lifelong cat-and-mouse chase just to get her to put her keys in the same place twice. The poor guy is going to spend fifty years apologizing for things he didn't even do, just to calm down her random outbursts. He's never going to have a quiet weekend again. Don't you agree?"
Arjun was cornered. He couldn't defend her without exposing himself, and agreeing meant insulting her. Looking at the screen, he remained paralyzed between loyalty and survival.
Offering a weak, defeated smile, he finally caved.
"Yeah," Arjun muttered reluctantly, his soul leaving his body. "Yeah, I guess the guy is in for a really tough time."
That was the breaking point.
Anjali had endured enough.
Ripping her arm out of Krithika's grasp, she sprang up from the sofa and marched into the frame of the video call. Planting herself right next to Deva, she placed her hands on her hips, eyes blazing with fury as she glared into the screen.
"A tough time?!" Anjali shrieked at the phone.
On the screen, Arjun recoiled. His eyes went as wide as saucers. The color drained from his face as he realized that Anjali had heard every single word of the conversation.
"Anjali..." Arjun gasped, his voice barely a squeak.
Deva could not hold it in for another second. He broke character, bursting into laughter. Krithika fell sideways onto the sofa cushions, clutching her stomach, howling with laughter as the trap finally snapped shut.
"You think I'm a nightmare?!" Anjali demanded, leaning closer to the camera, her volume reaching impressive heights. "You think whoever marries me is going to suffer?!"
"No! Anjali, listen to me," Arjun pleaded, his hands pressed together in a gesture of desperate prayer. "He cornered me! It was a trap! You know how he is!"
"You agreed with him!" Anjali yelled, ignoring logic. "You said I was a tough time! After I just spent the entire morning being interrogated by my sister to defend you!"
"I am so sorry," Arjun begged, looking frantically between Anjali's furious face and Deva's laughing one. "Sid, tell her! Tell her you set me up!"
Deva held his hands up, tears of mirth in his eyes, refusing to help. "I didn't force you to say anything, Arjun. You spoke your truth."
Krithika walked over, wiping her eyes, and leaned into the frame next to Anjali. She waved cheerfully at the screen. "Hi, Arjun. Welcome to the family."
Arjun buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly in humiliating defeat. The secret was out, and his best friend had orchestrated his public execution.
Anjali continued to scold him, berating his lack of loyalty and threatening to block his number. Arjun continued to apologize profusely, promising to make it up to her, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the playful wrath of his girlfriend.
The chaos lasted for several minutes, a loud, messy dynamic playing out over a digital connection in the middle of a lockdown.
Eventually, Anjali ran out of steam. She crossed her arms, offering a final, indignant huff, but a reluctant smile was finally breaking through her anger as she looked at Arjun's miserable, apologetic face on the screen.
Deva wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath to settle his laughter. He reached out and took the phone, centering the camera back on himself. He looked at Arjun, his expression shifting from amusement to affection.
"How long were you planning to keep this a secret from me, Arjun?" Deva asked, his voice soft but carrying the weight of their long brotherhood.
Arjun lowered his hands from his face. He offered an embarrassed smile. The CEO was gone; he was just a man caught by his best friend.
"I was going to tell you," Arjun promised quietly. "We just... we didn't know how to bring it up without making things complicated. Especially with the NSL and the company expanding. I didn't want you to think it would affect our work."
"You're an idiot," Deva said simply, shaking his head. "You're family, Arjun. You've always been family. This just makes it official on paper."
Arjun's shoulders dropped, relief washing over him. The tension he had been carrying for a year finally evaporated. "Thanks, Sid. Truly."
Deva smiled. He held the pause for two seconds.
"So," Deva asked, his tone shifting back into dangerous, casual curiosity. "When are you two getting married?"
Arjun froze again.
Off-camera, Anjali let out a sharp squeak of embarrassment.
"Married?" Arjun stammered, caught off guard by the rapid escalation of the timeline. "We... we haven't discussed yet. We just wanted to tell the family first."
"What is there to discuss?" Deva rolled his eyes. He looked into the camera with an expression of sarcastic logic. "The world is literally in apocalypse mode right now, Arjun. There is a global plague. Get married before the world ends."
"Bava!" Anjali protested loudly, smacking his arm.
Deva ignored her, leaning closer to the phone. "Honestly, think about it," Deva continued, his dry humor returning in full force. "If you marry her now, you might actually welcome the apocalypse. After living with her for a few months, you might finally give up on this life and welcome the sweet release of death when it comes."
Anjali didn't hesitate. She grabbed the throw pillow from the desk chair and slammed it into the side of Deva's head.
Krithika didn't even try to stop her. She grabbed a second pillow from the sofa and threw it at him from the other side.
"Okay! Okay! I'm done!" Deva laughed, raising his free arm to shield himself from the coordinated sisterly assault, almost dropping the phone in the process.
On the screen, Arjun was finally laughing, enjoying the sight of his best friend getting battered with soft furnishings.
"I will speak to my parents tonight," Arjun said. "They love Anjali. They'll be thrilled."
"And I will talk to Mamaya and Athamma tomorrow. I'll smooth the path. You won't have any resistance from this side."
"Thank you," Arjun said earnestly. "We'll figure out the formal details once this lockdown is lifted and things become safer."
"Take your time," Deva agreed. "Stay safe, Arjun. Tell Uncle and Aunty I said hello."
"I will. Bye, Sid. Bye, Krithika." Arjun paused, a warm smile touching his lips. "Bye, Anjali."
Anjali offered a small, shy wave from the background.
Deva tapped the screen, disconnecting the call.
He lowered the phone, slipping it back into his pocket. He looked at Krithika, who was smiling softly, leaning against the edge of the desk. Then he looked at Anjali, who was standing near the bookshelf, looking exhausted and relieved.
Deva smiled. He let out a sigh, shaking his head mournfully.
"Well," Deva announced to the room at large. "Another bakra ready for bali."
Both sisters gasped in unison.
Anjali grabbed the heavy, decorative cushion from the armchair. Krithika grabbed the pillow she had dropped on the floor.
Deva realized the error of his final joke one second too late. He turned, raising his hands, but the pillows hit him squarely in the chest, driving him back against the heavy oak desk with a loud, echoing laugh. Ronnie barked joyfully, prancing around the desk, thrilled that the morning had finally evolved into an all-out war.