A lot.
I glance at her. “Then don’t disappear.”
She nudges my arm. “I won’t. Promise.”
I watch her for a moment, the way her eyes soften when she looks at me like that, the way her voice loses its edge.
“Good,” I say. “Because I don’t share well.”
She grins. “Noted.”
She stands up then, stretching slightly. “Now, if my very jealous husband is done sulking, I’m going to change.”
I scoff. “I wasn’t sulking.”
She pauses at the cupboard door and looks back at me, eyes sparkling. “You absolutely were.”
And before I can argue, she slips into the closet, laughter trailing behind her.
I sit there for a second longer, shaking my head, lips twitching despite myself.
Me,
Jealous.
Ridiculous.
And yet, as I listen to her moving around the room again, humming softly to herself, I realize something else too.
I don’t actually mind losing.
Not when it means she comes back to me smiling.
Borrowed Courage
SITARA
I’m sitting cross-legged on the rug in the library, sketchbook open, pencil forgotten between my fingers as I stare at absolutely nothing. My phone vibrates next to me, and I immediately glance at the screen. It’s a call this time. My heart lifts instantly.
Meher bhabhi-sa.
I smile before I even answer. “Hi.”
Her voice comes through warm and familiar, the kind that makes you feel like you’re already halfway home. “Hi, drama queen. What are you doing?”
I snort softly. “Avoiding work. Existing. Overthinking. You know. The usual.”
She laughs, that soft laugh of hers that always feels like a hand smoothing down my back. “Good. Then you’re free to talk.”
I shift, leaning against the bookshelf, hugging the phone to my ear. “I’m always free for you.”
“Oho,” she teases. “Careful, Raja-sa might hear that.”
I grin. “He’s in a meeting. I’m safe.”
She hums knowingly. “How is married life treating you?”
The question shouldn’t make my chest warm. It still does. “It’s…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Different. In a good way. Strange, but… steady.”
