#ramaadhya

“Mam,” Bilal’s exasperated tone snaps Radha Rama out of her thoughts and she places the folder she’s holding on the desk, devoting her attention to him. 

“What’s the matter, Bilal? Did the Arodha’s want to make another change to their destination wedding because I swear to god, I’ve told them in a million different ways that I cannot get those parrots flown into the island this late in the game without proper permits.”

“No, they’re actually being reasonable this time– if you can believe it.” He lets out a huff of air as he plops down in the chair across from her. “They’ve just decided that veganism is the new trend they want to hop on. Which means they want to drag their family and friends in on it too.”

“No! No, no, no.” Radha Rama squeezes the bridge of her nose, bangles clanging as they move down her arm. “Don’t tell me… the wedding is in three days Bilal!”

“I don’t think they seem to realize that, but anyway, they want new caterers. Baachi was able to reach out to some of his contacts and draw up a contract with one of the best vegan restaurants on the island.” She lets out a small sigh and sinks back into her seat.

“If that situation is handled, then what’s the issue?”

“I was supposed to meet with the Krishnakanths today to discuss their daughter’s wedding, but I just got a call that my son is sick. I need to pick him up from school and take him to the doctor.”

“Oh.” Radha Rama turns to her computer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she observes the screen. “That’s okay Bilal, you handle that. I’ll just send… ah, yes! Varadha is free around then. He can handle it.” 

“Thank you, mam! I’m so sorry, I know how important their contract is, especially with how much power Krishnakanth holds. I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t–”

“Bilal,” Radha Rama looks up at him, dark eyes filled with understanding. “I know. I know you wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t urgent. Don’t apologize, not to me, okay? Just make sure your son is okay and we’ll handle your projects till then.” 

“You’re the best, boss.” Bilal stands, a relieved smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t I know it.” She winks, face alight with mischief as she sends him out on his way.

~*~

Varadha’s teeth grit together when he checks his watch, a curse leaving his lips. If there was anything he was proud of, it was his ability to be punctual regardless of any hurdles in his way. He didn't know what his sister was thinking, giving him a new assignment an hour before the meeting time, when she knew he had to make his way through Khansar traffic. 

Varadha was nothing if not determined though. So his eyes scan the route on the GPS, mind rapidly putting together the different pieces of the puzzle till a picture flashes in his mind– the exit he could take, followed by the route that could get him to the meeting location as soon as possible. Ten minutes later, he’s sitting at the cafe, his laptop and documents arranged neatly on the table in front of him. 

Two minutes later, his foot taps a staccato against the brick patio, still waiting for the family to arrive. After five more minutes of sitting around hoping to catch sight of these rich bastards who don’t seem to give a fuck about other people’s time, Varadha decides it’s best to kill time by being as productive as he possibly can. He pulls out the file Radha Rama handed to him as he was running out the door and flips it open to the page that describes the bride.

Aadhya Krishnakanth. Born and brought up in the States. A doctor initially based out of New York before deciding to move to India. Opened a free clinic for patients in marginalized regions of the country. Lives in Hyderabad with her mother–

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” There’s a sudden pink blur that races through the cafe before crashing down in the seat across from him. “I’m so sorry! I always try so hard not to be late, but you have to understand it’s so difficult with my schedule. There was a surgery today that ended up getting more complicated than we expected and oh god! I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, no it’s okay!” The sudden noise after an excruciating phase of silence is enough to give him whiplash, but seeing how frazzled the poor girl is softens him up like butter. “We’ve all been there. I was late too, to be honest. Stuck in traffic actually but that’s nothing compared to saving lives now that I think about it.” She smiles at him, relieved and thankful, sinking into her seat. 

“Aadhya,” she holds out a hand, grinning brightly in the way Americans tend to do. “So nice to meet you…?”

“Varadha. Is anyone else going to be joining us today?”

“Yeah! My parents weren’t able to make it, but my fiancé and f–”

“Ey, Tingari (crazy girl). Wait for me next time, will you?” A towering figure appears behind Aadhya, his arms wrapping around to pull her into a hug that is powerful enough to lift her off her chair for half a second. 

“Rey! Let me down!” She swats at him playfully, bringing out a deep and melodic laugh from the man. He does as she requests and takes a seat next to her, an arm draped casually over the back of her chair.

“Hi sir! I’m De-” The sound dies on his lips when he makes out who exactly it is sitting in front of him. “Varadha?”

“Deva?”

“You two know each other?” Aadhya looks between the two of them, confused as to why they look like they’ve seen a ghost. They don’t say anything for a second, too stunned to speak. She might’ve left it well alone if it wasn’t for the fact that she was a nosey little fucker who wanted all the details. So she digs her fingers into the side of Deva’s waist, smirking when he jumps and his attention diverts to her.

“Yeah, we were roommates in college.” Deva mumbles, rubbing his hand over his side and glaring at Aadhya. Something about that answer doesn’t seem to be what Varadha expects because his face darkens for a moment, lips pursing when he takes a second to recompose himself.

“Yeah, roommates. Anyway, today’s meeting isn’t about that. Your father wanted to hire us because of our commitment to excellence in every event that we plan. However, as a company, we prioritize creating unique experiences that are a reflection of our clients and their journey. So I usually like to start by getting an idea of what you’re looking for going forward. It seems that according to the file, you’re hoping for a big wedding?” Deva immediately scoffs at that.

“Deva–” Aadhya starts, a slight blush coating her cheeks.

“What? It’s true.” Deva looks at Varadha then. “She’d prefer a smaller wedding. As small as we can get considering her dad is stuffing the list to the brim with his entire network.”

Varadha can’t find it in him to say anything, so he looks down at the file, making note of the fact. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s digging the pen into the paper though, till the free flowing movement stops and he realizes the pen is stuck in a tiny hole. Swallowing, he pulls it out and looks back up at the couple.

“Well considering we got most of our information from your father, I’m assuming more things in this file are wrong than right?” Varadha hands over the file to the other side of the table. Deva reaches over to grab it, placing it between him and Aadhya as they lean over to read it together. Varadha’s attention catches on how their expressions almost move in synch, going from light frowns to wide-eyed looks of incredulity. “So?”

“Well, they’re not entirely wrong…” Aadhya shrugs at the piece of paper, her hunched posture a direct contradiction to her tone. 

“Pichi Pilla (crazy girl),” Deva crosses his arms over his chest and looks directly at Varadha, who can feel the world closing in on him, slowly but surely. “Look, half of this is bull. She wants a smaller wedding, something in India and not a destination abroad. She hates beaches, would probably rather burn herself alive than be caught dead dragging a trail of sand behind her. She loves food, so none of those small plates of Hors D’oeuvres that leave you feeling more hungry after taking a nibble than you were before that. Probably a big giant buffet where people can go back for fourths, that’d be ideal right?”

At that, Aadhya places her hand gently on his arm in an effort to stop him perhaps. Still, she gazes up at Deva with so much warmth, her eyes glassing over just slightly enough to let Varadha know that what Deva said mattered to her. Why he said it, mattered to her. He has to look away from the image in front of him, simply because he knows what it’s like. 

Varadha knows what it’s like to be in Aadhya’s place because that’s where he was for the longest time. If anyone knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Deva’s love and affection, it’s him. It’s no surprise that the memories of that man are etched into every fiber of his being, even after all these years.

The coal-dark eyes that would come to life when Varadha would enter a room. The warm body that would press into his from behind during movie nights on that dingy-ass college couch. The smell of burning food left abandoned on the stove as wine coated lips explored each other against thin walls.

The man who dropped to his knees, begging Varadha to forgive him when–

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Varadha says, pushing out of his chair and walking himself out the door to the cafe. The second he gets to the parking lot, he pulls out the remaining half of a cigarette he bummed from a friend the night before at a party. Smoking wasn’t something he necessarily enjoyed doing. It was an occasional habit he’d picked up after college. 

Whenever Deva would feel anxious about something, he’d make his way onto their roof, taking a drag beneath the night sky. Every once in a while, Varadha would join him. More often when he knew times were tough. They’d lie there together in silence for a moment before Deva would point to different constellations and tell him the myths he heard as a child. Deva wasn’t much of a talker with other people, but when he loved people enough to let them into his small circle, conversation was something that dripped from his lips like sweet honey. Once he’d calm down, he’d turn towards Varadha, a look of pure gratitude in his eyes as his chapped lips would brush against his own. The taste of nicotine in those moments used to be so irresistible, because it became the taste of Deva.

That was all it was, to be honest. It wasn’t often that Varadha found himself in distress, but in those rare moments of weakness, the warmth of the cigarette against his lips would remind him of Deva. For some time, it would be as if they were still together, the mistakes of the past erased. 

Yet, when the cigarette touches his lips today, it leaves behind a bitter taste. He scoffs as he lets out a puff, scraping his shoes against the ground. Why wouldn’t it? The man he’s in love with, even after all these years, is about to get married to a beautiful, kind, caring woman. His stomach churns uneasily and he gives up, too tired to try and process the day beyond the fact that the man he loves isn’t his anymore. Hasn’t been for a while now.

“Let me have a drag?” Varadha freezes, finger that was about to drop the cigarette tightening around it and passing it along to Deva’s waiting hand without further thought. “Thanks, ra.”

“Should you be smoking at this age? It kills you know?” Deva leans against the car, lips quirking up and he doesn’t bother to hide his amusement at Varadha’s hypocrisy. “I smoke occasionally, I don’t count. You probably do it on a daily basis.” 

“Careful, Varadha. You don’t want me thinking you actually care do you?”

“Of course I care!” Varadha pauses, looking to his feet. “You’ve got a nice girl in there. Least you can do is make it to your wedding alive.” Deva’s eyes dig into Varadha’s profile and he can feel his skin rising uncomfortably. “What’s with all the staring?”

“I haven’t seen you in years, B- Varadha. I’m soaking up as much as I can before you go.” He flicks the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before speaking again. “As for the girl, we’re not together. She’s just a friend.”

Varadha should be embarrassed by the immediate relief he feels at the statement. The churning pit in his stomach disappears in seconds as he takes a moment to really observe the man standing across from him. If it was possible, he was more handsome now than all those years ago. His lanky frame that used to be hidden behind drowning fabrics has now filled out deliciously, the protruding muscles emphasized by the various textured clothing that wrap snugly around him. His wild mane that would stick out in every direction, frizzing out during the humid months, is now styled to perfection with every curl staying in place. His once clean shaven face is now painted with a dark beard that makes him look less like the boy next door and more like a rugged stranger that Varadha wouldn’t mind running into during a night out. The tattoo wrapping around Deva’s arm further emphasizes that particular fantasy of his. 

Was it pathetic how in love with him he still was? If Radha Rama was here with him, she wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. 

“What about her fiancé?” 

“He’s running late. His flight’s coming in from L.A. today. I just wanted to hop along because I knew if she was alone she’d say yes to all the shit her dad had laid out for her.” Deva lights another cigarette he pulls out of his pocket, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke settle in his lungs before he lets out a puff of air that fades into the afternoon breeze.

“Is that why you’re so stressed?” Varadha leans against the car as well, a couple of inches away from Deva. The hairs on his body stay on edge, aware of the electrical pulse that beats between them. He tries not to let that distract him. 

“Please, I can handle Krishnakanth.” Deva passes the cigarette back to Varadha, who forces himself not to think about the fact that Deva’s lips were wrapped against the paper just seconds ago. He fails miserably. “He doesn’t mean any harm really. He’s a good man who just wants to see his daughter taken care of and she hasn’t met anyone she’s fallen for yet. So, why not say yes to marriage to make her family happy?” 

“What about her? Will she be happy?” The look Deva gives him is enough for Varadha to understand and he keeps quiet, not knowing what else to say. 

“Meeting you today was a surprise.” Deva offers and Varadha takes greedily. 

“For me as well.” He admits, fingers coming up to play with his watch. 

“You look good Varadha. You look happy.” 

“Well… that’s open to interpretation.”

“You’re not happy?” Deva crushes the cigarette against the ground, rigidity taking over his body once more. 

“I’m doing well, Deva. That should be enough right?” 

“Not for me. It shouldn’t be for you either. What’s wrong Varadha? What’s missing?” Deva steps closer to him, the scent of his cologne surrounding Varadha in an intoxicating cloud. Maybe that’s what allows for him to let his guard down.

“You,” the word passes uninterrupted from his lips. “You’re missing from my life and I’ve wanted you back every day since–”

Deva takes a step back, snapping Varadha out of his daze. The broken expression on his face makes Varadha feel like an absolute asshole.

“Shit, Deva. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“I left that day because you asked me to. Not because I wanted to.” Varadha sucks in a sharp breath at the admission, mouth falling shut. 

“I know. I shouldn’t have said anything, especially after all this time. Just because I haven’t moved on doesn’t mean the same applies to you.” Varadha looks away, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t owe me anything, Deva. Not after everything, but I need you to know that I regret what I did back then. Not a day goes by where I don’t wish that it played out differently because then maybe…” He swallows, stopping the words in his throat. The images play in his mind though, of an intimate wedding, a beautiful house on the edge of the river, a small child’s laugh echoing through the property. 

“Yeah, well… I wish it played out differently too.” Deva takes in a deep breath, his gaze resting on the horizon. “I haven’t gotten over you either.”

“Oh?”

“So, where does that leave us? Are we just going to get that off our chests and never see each other again? Because I’m getting old, Varadha. I don’t think I have energy to wait anymore.” Deva hangs his head, hands tucked into his pockets.

Varadha can’t help but to think of how his life passed by in a blink of an eye over the past two decades. A lifetime of memories that felt as if they hadn't been experienced, not in the way they were meant to. All the moments of joy and pride, sadness and pain, nothing more than fleeting emotions that refused to ground themselves into the core of his very being. When he’d lie in bed at night, desperately trying to find a reason for this ache, Deva’s name would echo through his mind and he’d wonder how he could’ve ever been blind to it before. 

Why did he ever let that man go?

“I won’t make you wait, not this time.” Varadha’s hand intertwines with Deva’s, touch as gentle as a feather brushing against glass. “Let’s start over?”

~*~

6 Months Later

Varadha makes deliberate cuts into the meat in front of him, trying hard to clear out any remaining bones so the previous week’s episode doesn’t unfold a second time. Sure he and his sister had their fair share of fights, but nothing drastic enough where we wanted to murder her through way of choking on a bone. 

“Bujji?” The call comes simultaneously with the thud of the front door closing. 

“In the kitchen.” Varadha replies, refusing to break his concentration. 

“Here’s the sauce you asked for. They didn’t have the brand you usually get, but this seemed like it’d be good too.” Deva sets the glass container next to Varadha, leaning in to place a quick peck against his cheek. Varadha hears a sound of disgust from behind him and he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“You make a fuss now, but the second I put down the food, you’re the first to gobble it up.” 

“You see how gross uncooked meat is right? Your chopping skills don't help the image either.” 

“Rey–”Varadha turns, holding the knife threateningly towards Deva.

“Calm down, Kick Buttowski. Get back to work and look out for any bones. I’m not about to lose my favorite Mannar sibling to something smaller than a lima bean again.”

“Don’t let Baachi hear you say that. It’ll break his heart.”

“I’m sure it will. After all, we’re attached at the hip, the two of us.” Deva chuckles as he opens up a bottle of wine for them. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to impress that kid. He’ll just hate me for the rest of his life.”

“He doesn’t hate you!” Varadha defends instantly, putting down his knife now that he was finished with his thorough inspection. 

“The bruise from when he chucked a volleyball at my head last week begs to differ.” Varadha washes his hands meticulously before heading over to Deva and pulling him down to place a lingering kiss on his left temple, where the remnants of a pretty terrible bruise were finally starting to fade. 

“You have a point, but he does it out of love. I swear.” Deva shakes his head at the comment before handing Varadha a glass of wine.

“No, me putting up with his murderous tendencies is what’s done out of love.” Deva whips out his phone and taps against the screen. A soft Hindi melody plays from the speakers and Varadha smiles at his boyfriend at the gesture. “But I can put up with that till death as long as you keep kissing all the wounds better.”

“God, you’re such a sap.” Varadha complains, but there’s no malice behind it. Just the light hearted tone that comes from being in love with an unbelievably sweet idiot. So he grabs at Deva’s shirt and tugs him in closer for a deep kiss. A small moan escapes his throat when he tastes his favorite wine lingering on Deva’s lips. The various notes of fruit, spices, and coco dust intermingle seamlessly into the unique flavor that belongs to Deva, and Varadha can’t possibly get enough. His fingers tangle into the taller man’s hair, pushing off the ground to wrap his legs around Deva’s waist. A grunt of surprise leaves Deva’s lips, but he’s quick to catch on to Varadha and move towards the counter. Placing Varadha down gives him more leeway than before, so he digs his ankles into the small of Deva’s back, pulling him closer to gain more access to his mouth. 

“Rey,” Deva groans as he forces himself to pull away. “God stop teasing me. We have guests coming over soon.”

“They can wait.” Varadha’s teeth catch against the bottom of his earlobe, nipping playfully. “They’ll understand that a chef deserves his kiss.” 

“I don’t know that chef is the right word when all that’s sitting out right now is a lump of meat.”

“Whyyyyy!” Varadha whines as he pulls away from his hot boyfriend. “Why do you do this to me? What’s the point of having a sexy boyfriend if I can’t make out with him whenever I want.” 

“You can still ogle me.” Deva winks at him. “Now, stop pouting and get to cooking. We have the rest of the night once they leave.”

“It would take a S.W.A.T. team to evacuate them out of this apartment post dinner. The second Aadhya whips out the cards, everyone’s going to settle in for a round of poker and before we know it, she’ll have us drowning in debt.”

“Drowning you in debt. The rest of us actually win every once in a while.” Deva comments, making his way into Varadha’s room to change. 

Varadha spends the next hour quickly shuffling through the kitchen and preparing the feast, while Deva tidies up around the apartment and sets up the dining table. They idly exchange stories from their day, where Deva speaks of his cute Kindergarteners who gifted him a paper crown that was more glue than paper at this point, while Varadha complains about how billionaires shouldn’t be allowed to get married because it is quite frankly impossible (potentially unethical) to bring in a whole herd of elephants just so the celebrity guests could make a grad entrance to the reception. Which would pale in comparison when the newlyweds would enter on the backs of lions. That idea was vetoed pretty quickly by him and his sister, thank god. 

“Ey, Macha!” Aadhya bustles in just as they finish getting ready, a tray of brownies in hand. “This is about to be the best dessert of your lives! Crumb coffee cake brownies, made by yours truly.” 

“There were supposed to be two trays, but I downed one on the way here!” Radha Rama shouts from near the entryway. A wide smile settles on Aadhya’s face.

“Seal of approval from the best Mannar sibling!” Aadhya declares happily as she grabs herself a hard cider from their fridge. 

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Varadha frowns in his sister’s direction. “What’s so special about you besides an undiagnosed sugar addiction?” 

“I’m the one who’s kept this circus afloat for years, kid. Show some respect!” Radha Rama smirks as she pushes past her brother, making her way over to Aadhya and wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“Don’t take it too seriously, Bujji.” Deva laughs leaning against the counter. “Our Tingari Pilla is just too in love with her girlfriend to see things objectively.” 

“It’s not just her.” Baachi comes stomping into the apartment, carrying a heaving box of decorations that he plops unceremoniously to the ground. “Considering they’ve been using me as a pack mule for this wedding, the least you can do is declare me the best Mannar sibling instead of tucking tail and following my brother around like a lost puppy.”

In the blink of an eye, the siblings start bickering, bringing up every moment from the past in an effort to one up each other. Deva and Aadhya choose to sit back silently, watching the event play out in front of them. 

“We’ll get to dinner soon, right?” Aadhya asks, anxiously gazing at the clock.

“Yeah… as soon as your girlfriend stops trying to rip my boyfriend to shreds with that pillow?” Deva’s brow furrows as he tries to determine when exactly the physical fight broke out.

“I’m going to be honest Deva. I think tonight’s the night we confess to them.”

“Confess what?”

“You know? That there’s no superior Mannar sibling because all of them are certifiably insane?” 

“And that we’re the angels for putting up with them?”

“Mhm. Exactly!” Aadhya places down her cider and makes her way into the sibling’s circle to drag Radha Rama out by the arm. “Food first, fighting later. I refuse to eat cold lasagna again, Babe.”

They spend the rest of the night eating, drinking, and playing poker. Varadha loses every round and at some point, he gives up and leans against Deva’s side instead, inadvertently becoming a part of his team. It’s something he realizes he should do more often because he likes the feeling of winning every once in a while, even if it was his boyfriend doing most of the work. 

By the time everyone leaves, Varadha can barely keep his eyes open. He leans his forehead against the door, eyes closed as he allows the silence to envelop him.

“Rey, come to bed.” Deva places a hand on his shoulder to peel him off the door.

“The door is so soft though.”  Varadha slurs through wine drunk lips. 

“The bamboo pillows you brought are softer, I promise. Come on now.” 

Soon, the two of them are tangled up under Varadha’s sheets, holding each other close as they let the day finally slow down around them.

“This is getting annoying.” Varadha murmurs into Deva’s chest.

“What, family dinners? I love you Bujji, but you have to stop picking fights with your sister. We could get to eating faster for one thing.” 

“No!” Varadha shoves Deva away before pulling him back when he realizes how cold it is. “No, you asshole. I meant having to work around our schedules to see each other recently.”

“Oh, that.” Deva hums and settles closer to Varadha. “I’ve been trying to find apartments closer to this side of the city. I think that could fix the scheduling conflict a little.” 

“Rent in Pathran is abhorrent, Bangarm.” 

“So? What’s your solution?”

“Move in with me?”

“Okay, yeah, sure.” Deva places a peck on Varadha’s head, chuckling a little.

“I’m being serious. Move in with me.” Varadha insists.

“I know, but let’s talk about this tomorrow when you’re less tipsy.” 

Varadha groans, asking the gods silently why they fated him to fall in love with an oblivious, asshole of a man. He reaches over to switch on the lights and because he was just a little annoyed with Deva, he revels when the man shields his eyes from the sudden onslaught. 

“Now you can look at me and see how serious I am when I ask this. Move in with me, Deva.” Varadha intertwines their hands together when their gazes meet. “It’s as simple as this: I’m happiest when I’m with you and I hate not being around you. I love it when you walk into the apartment, I love it when you help me cook, I love it when you help me clean. I love it when you curl up with me to watch a movie, I love it when you read next to me before bed, I love it when I see your teaching plans scattered across my desk. I even love it when you’re grading your students’ art projects and all the glitter falls onto the carpet. Nothing I do gets rid of it and I keep finding it everywhere, even in my coffee! I just love you so can we go back to being roommates? Please?” 

Radha Rama feels eyes on her, watching her dance on the platform.

Of course, she’s here to be watched, to show herself off, to help out her team. It would’ve been so much easier if the boys had just accepted a large donation from Mannar Corps, but they wanted to work for their money, wanted to earn it. They had wanted to continue their street dancing lifestyle, and given that they had welcomed her with open arms, teaching her their ways after she left the dance academy, Rama hadn’t pushed it.

Deva, Rinda, and now Surabhi, their newest member, were in it for their love of dance and their community, having nowhere else to go with tumultuous home lives. Rama understood the love of dance, had grown up loving every practice session and every stage performance, so she tagged along whenever she was free from her responsibilities, helping the Salaar team, as they called themselves, put on performances around the city to earn money.

She uses the cover of a twirl to glance at whoever’s looking at her, and nearly trips in shock. Even though the girl had clearly grown older in the years, Rama can’t forget those pretty doe eyes, the ones that had always looked at her with wonder and awe. It’s a familiar feeling, Rama thinks ruefully, dancing while Aadhya Krishnakanth watches from the crowd. She uses another twirl, breaking from the choreography for a second, to steal another glance at Aadhya. The boys would deal with it, they had known her well enough to know she would go off script at times, and never enough to truly disrupt the performance. Sometimes the preplanned steps just didn’t match with the audience, the weather, her mood, and she would change accordingly. Of course, it wasn’t for an artistic reason this time.

Aadhya looks the part of a New York tourist, her long black hair straightened and held back from her face by those obnoxious street glasses. She’s wearing a simple brown babydoll tee and a white ruffled skirt flowing around her knees. Unsurprisingly, there’s a bowl full of gelato in her left hand and a phone held up with her right hand, probably recording Rama. She’s filled out slightly since she was a teenager, the curve of her waist distracting Rama for another second. Deva notices, catching her eye. He briefly raises an eyebrow before he breaks eye contact to do a flip, knowing she got the warning. Rama flushes, resolving to ignore the girl until the performance is over, dropping to her knees for a series of floor movements.

-

The crowd files out quickly after the performance is over, most dropping some cash into their basket or venmoing them a few dollars as they get back to their sightseeing. The regulars take the time to greet them and wish them a good weekend before they too move on to their jobs and other activities. The little girl that’s been to their last few performances once again hands a piece of candy to Surabhi, and Surabhi smiles cheerily at the girl in thanks, before the girl scampers off to skate with her friends in the park behind the stage.

Team Salaar comes together to count their money and regroup, Surabhi chewing happily on the candy as Deva and Baachi get into yet another argument over how the money should be split. Rama rolls her eyes, and tries to discreetly watch where Aadhya’s going. The girl has walked a few blocks to the east, but as Rama watches, Aadhya turns around to look at their group. Rama quickly looks at the bickering boys, sharing an amused look with Rinda. A second later, she turns back. Aadhya has sat on a park bench, but is almost blatantly staring at their group.

Was Aadhya… here for her?

Aadhya looks off for about a minute, finishing her gelato. But Rama wasn’t wrong. Aadhya keeps sneaking glances at them.

Rama feels her lips curl up. So she’s gotten herself a stalker.

-

The rest of the day had passed as normal, except for Aadhya. The girl had followed the group to the corner deli where they had gotten lunch, burying her face in a newspaper to avoid discovery. Then she had followed them to the local flea market, and later followed Rama to her favorite ramen place for dinner. She gave up when Rama went home in an Uber, but the girl had made a very big mistake. She had gotten Rama curious.

Rama had gone home, changed, and came right back to where she last saw Aadhya. From there it wasn’t hard to look through windows until she saw the girl buying some travel guides from a local bookseller. She had waited until Aadhya walked out, then began following her to her next destination. Rama assumes it would be her home in this city, the penthouse that Krishnakanth owned.

It’s not hard to catch up to the girl, while also staying unsuspicious. As Aadhya turns the corner into an isolated alleyway, Rama smirks, increasing her pace. It’s this that gets Aadhya to glance behind at her pursuer, eyes widening at the all black outfit, face covered by the hoodie and dim lighting. Rama relishes in the fear that flashes instantly across Aadhya’s face, causing the girl to stumble.

Rama uses the distraction to grab both of Aadhya’s hands to keep her from striking, and pressing them both to the side of a building. A strangled scream begins to tear out of Aadhya’s throat at the position they’re in, but dies down at the recognition of her stalker now that she can see her face up close.

“Rama akka?”

Rama leans in closer, glancing down at Aadhya’s lips, and licks her own, making sure the movement is visible. “Oh I think we don’t need the formalities anymore, do we?” Aadhya swallows, and pressed chest-to-chest like this, Rama can feel her heartbeat through the thin top. “Just Rama is fine. Or,” Rama smirks, “I can think of some more creative things you could call me in a more private place.”

Aadhya immediately shoves her off, Rama letting herself get pushed back about a foot, but the rising blush on Aadhya’s cheeks and ears betrays her.

“What do you want?”

Rama gently blows on the girl’s face, causing her to close her eyes and turn to the side. She uses the distraction to murmur, “You.” Aadhya’s eyes fly open, and Rama’s blood buzzes in excitement. Playing with this girl was too fun, she was so easily startled and cute.

“For- for what?”

“Mmm, I don’t know, maybe whatever it is you wanted to find me for.” A flutter of emotions crosses Aadhya’s face: embarrassment, fear, guilt.

“You knew I was… following you. I was an idiot,” she mutters to herself.

“Come on, baby. I don’t deal with idiots. You,” Rama breathes, lifting Aadhya’s chin up with her snake ring, “are not one. Not if we just continue with your original plan. So, your place or mine?”

“What?”

“Unless you mean to tell me you’re here to beg me to come back to the academy,” Rama shrugs. “But I just assumed you wanted to fuck.”

Aadhya stares at her, and Rama lets her come to whatever conclusions she wants, knowing that the decision was already made. The girl swallows. “Mine. So you can’t try anything.”

Rama smirks. Desperate, the girl was desperate for her. She puts an arm around her baby’s waist, leading them out of the alleyway. “Perfect. I’ll pay for the Uber, don’t you worry.”

-

The ride to Aadhya’s place is quiet, both high strung from the tension, Aadhya clearly feeling a touch of fear as well. Rama keeps her palm splayed possessively over the bare skin exposed on Aadhya’s thigh, and can tell how much Aadhya is straining to not lean into the touch, to not give away how desperate she is.

The driver glances suspiciously at her in the rearview mirror, taking in her all black out outfit. Rama glares right back. He seems to give up after a few minutes, concentrating on the road, and Rama relaxes a bit. After all these years, she finally got her prize. Maybe not the one she had originally wanted, but this would piss Krishnakanth off just as much, if not more.

As they get out of their ride, Rama slips her fingers under the hem of Aadhya’s top. The thought of that slim waist hadn’t left her mind since she had first seen it that morning, and she had to touch. Aadhya jolts, and as Rama is about to smirk down at her, the girl yanks Rama down by the edges of her hood and kisses Rama, hard.

When they pull back Rama stares at Aadhya, surprised at the intensity, and Aadhya blushes although she doesn’t back down. So cute, Rama thinks. The girl couldn’t control herself, and she also seemed to have a fire that rivaled Rama’s own.

Aadhya looks around, realizing they were still in the middle of the street, and grabs Rama’s hand to pull after her. “Not here,” she says.

“Wherever you want me, baby,” Rama grins.

Rama resumes exploring inside the elevator that would take them to the top floor, and Aadhya lets herself lean into the touches.

“You have to leave before my dad gets here,” Aadhya says, trying to be stern but neither of them miss the way her voice shakes.

“Of course baby, what business do I have with him?” Aadhya frowns at that, and Rama leans in for a quick kiss to distract her. Rama does in fact have business with Krishnakanth- she can’t wait for the day her family buys out all of his properties- but that’s for another day.

The elevator chimes as they reach the penthouse, and Aadhya kisses Rama, deeper this time, as she pulls her onto the floor. Rama doesn’t let her go far, presses the girl up against the wall next to the elevator, lets herself bite Aadhya’s lips, pressing hard on her waist. She wants to see how far the girl will let her go, but surprisingly she doesn’t complain about the rough treatment, in fact, by the way she’s squirming, Rama thinks she likes it more this way. How exciting.

Aadhya pushes her back a little, flushed. “I’ve never..” she starts hesitantly, and Rama can only stare. “I’ve never done this with anyone before.”

Rama takes a moment to breathe, all thoughts scattered after knowing the girl was a virgin. She would be the first one to defile this doll of a girl, she would leave her mark on the girl for the rest of her life. And oh would that man be pissed, that Rama had gotten her claws on his daughter, had claimed her for herself. She doesn’t let Aadhya see any of these thoughts, but mentally rearranges her plans for the night. No, this would not be a one-night stand, she wants the girl all to herself. So she can’t scare her away.

“Do you still want to continue, baby?” She tries to seem concerned. “I can leave if you’re not comfortable.”

Aadhya scowls. “I’m not a little girl, I’m fine, we can f-fuck.” She stumbles over the last word, and Rama tries not to laugh. The girl was adorable. She would bet anything Krishnakanth had gone too far in raising her, keeping her sheltered away, and Aadhya was desperate to rebel.

“Still, I think we should take a break. Do you have any drinks? Could help us loosen up.”

The girl’s face lights up for a moment. “I’ve got vodka, specialty bottles of wine..” She trails off, realizing who she was talking to, frowning again. “Non-alcoholic for now. I can make tea, coffee, or hot chocolate.” Aadhya was still suspicious of her, but it didn’t bother Rama, since she was right to think Rama had an ulterior motive.

Rama trails her fingers over a painting next to them on the wall, depicting an ocean landscape. “If I’m going to be up all night,” she takes note of the way Aadhya’s breath hitches at that, “then I’ll take a coffee. Dark roast, splash of milk, two sugars.” She nods and heads into the kitchen, Rama following.

As Aadhya waits on the coffee machine, Rama observes the place. The decor wasn’t fully minimalistic, but it didn’t show true personality either. Just enough to make it look like a respectable person owned the building. Classic Krishnakanth, Rama thinks. Always wearing the mask of a gentleman. She gets bored halfway through looking around the kitchen and ogles Aadhya’s ass instead, Aadhya rolling her eyes at Rama when she realizes, but not saying a word. Her hair was long too. Rama imagines pulling on the length, tries to think of the sounds the girl would make.

Finally both mugs of coffee are ready, Rama noticing the girl not bothering to put anything else in her own mug. Aadhya gestures to the living room sofa, and Rama takes her mug and follows Aadhya to sit. She chooses a spot close enough to Aadhya to make it seem like she’s interested, but not close enough to be creepy. She angles herself to face the girl, who kicks her feet up and sits cross-legged. Rama lets the girl talk first, sipping at her coffee patiently as she waits her out.

“So.” Aadhya tries to break the suddenly awkward silence. “What have you been doing since…” She trails off hesitantly, knowing it was a sore subject, but Rama shakes her head. Emboldened, Aadhya continues. “What have you been doing since you left the Academy? I saw your performance this morning, it was amazing. Are you like, a professional street dancer now? You quit my dad’s place and joined Team Salaar?” The last part doesn’t come out accusatory, to Rama’s surprise.

“Well, it wasn’t an immediate shift. I sorted some stuff out-”

Broken bangles littered around the floor. Reena’s face torn open from the switchblade in her hand.

“-graduated college-”

Her foot, on the balls of the student who had dared catcall her, threaten to molest her.

“-joined the family real estate business-”

Her palm cupping the neck of the man who refused to do business with her dad, dragging his face along the table. Bruised knuckles, contrasting with her perfectly manicured, unbroken nails.

“-and found Deva and Rinda on the streets. I was intrigued by their style and asked them to teach me.” Aadhya’s knowing eyes find her own. She knows, Rama thinks. The itch inside your body, the urge to dance and move as freely as you want. She may have left the Academy but the Academy training hadn’t left her, and it never would. “I wanted to continue dancing, and this was a way for me to do so. And I’m not a professional, darling, I simply show up and do a few tricks as a hobby. I’m just helping the boys and Surabhi out.”

Aadhya nods, taking in the information. “Of course I remember you from the Academy, who didn’t know you then?” Her brown eyes sparkle with remembered awe, and Rama feels a pang of the now dormant rage at the thought of how bright she shined there, how much farther she could have reached if it weren’t for that man. “You were amazing, all of us juniors wanted to be like you. But..” She takes a sip of her coffee. “But this suits you. Better, I mean.” Rama blinks. “You being your own boss, performing the choreo you come up with, you being in control of your dance.”

Rama feels flustered all of a sudden. How well did this girl pay attention to her, years ago? To know her thoughts like that? Aadhya can’t conceal her delight and smugness at Rama’s flushed cheeks well enough, and Rama shakes the feelings away.

“How’s the Academy doing?” She asks the girl.

Aadhya sighs. “Same old, same old. Nothing’s changed since you left, my dad’s been running it the exact same way he’s been running the place for the last few decades.” She looks down into her mug. “I’m an assistant teacher now, I help out when I’m not studying,”

Rama whistles, and Aadhya blushes this time. “Look at you go, already an assistant teacher.” Aadhya giggles, and Rama takes note of the fact that she’s a lot more relaxed now. Both of them are, actually. Rama tries to tamp down her own feelings, the urge to just.. lie down in Aadhya’s lap. Where the hell did that come from? “Are you studying here? Is that why you’re in New York City?”

“I actually just transferred to NYU for this semester, my final semester. I’m trying to do a combined masters program, getting my double degree in linguistics and dance, and earning a masters in dance so I can continue to teach full-time at the Academy.” Such an accomplished girl. Rama would have fun with her. “So how are your brothers doing? Baachi and Varadha?”

She can’t help but laugh out loud. “You still hate him that much? That you forgot his existence? I have a third brother, baby.”

Aadhya blinks, then shudders. “Sorry but I don’t want to hear about Rudra.”

Rama laughs again. “That’s fair. Well, you saw Baachi this morning. He’s only with the group to promote his OnlyFans, on paper at least.”

“On paper?”

Rama leans in, and Aadhya giggles as Rama whispers mock-conspiratorially. “Streets are saying he just wants to be as cool as Deva, that he joined the group just for Varadha to take him seriously.”

“Deva?”

“The tall, brooding guy.” Aadhya nods. “He’s Varadha’s boyfriend, and Baachi hates his guts.”

Aadhya giggles again. “I don’t know Deva but I do remember Baachi.” Rama remembers how Baachi and Aadhya were around the same age, and played pranks on each other. They were close. “And I know it’s more so that Baachi is just jealous of Deva.”

Rama grins. “He’s so obvious, isn’t he, always trailing after Varadha but refusing any affection from him.”

They laugh together for a few moments. Rama thinks this is nice, actually.

“And Varadha is… Varadha.”

“What did he do this time?”

“More like what didn’t he do,” Rama snorts. “He refused to join the family business like Rudra and I.” Oh, she remembers that particular tantrum well. Her brother had accused the family of ‘unethical business practices’, but that was just how real estate worked. “He went to law school and became a lawyer, just started as an attorney recently. He works in environmental law because he’s soft like that. He and Deva met…” She pauses, frowning. “They met…”

The looseness from earlier, the feeling of happiness, the simmering lust underneath, it’s all coming to a head. Rama focuses on Aadhya’s lips, the rest of the room slowly starting to blur out. Something’s wrong. Her brain refuses to function properly, though. All she can think of are the girl’s lips, of how they would feel against hers.

“They met where? Rama?” Aadhya’s voice is crystal clear against the way the room is spinning. She holds onto it like a lifeline. “What’s wrong? What do you want?”

You, Rama thinks. Or maybe she says it out loud. She doesn’t know.

Rama, in a show of forwardness that shocks even herself, throws her legs over Aadhya’s lap and starts making out with the girl in earnest. It’s wet and sloppy and too much tongue but Rama’s too far gone for technique now, and Aadhya doesn’t seem to mind by the way she eagerly reciprocates. Aadhya brings her hands around to squeeze Rama’s ass, and Rama makes an embarrassing sound.

Something’s wrong, a small part of her is still yelling.

Aadhya pulls back slightly, gazing at Rama’s unfocused eyes, at the way she’s slightly panting. Then, slowly, her lips curl up into a smirk. “It worked.” Rama blinks, uncomprehending, until it hits her. The coffee. She hadn’t watched what Aadhya had put into it, too distracted by her ass. Her heart rate would have been spiking if she wasn’t on drugs right now. “It worked,” Aadhya traces her index finger over the curve of Rama’s jawline, “so perfectly well. You thought I was just a simple girl, terrible at stalking, thought you had the power over me. You came into my house so confident. And now? You’re mine.” She grins, and Rama feels the tables of control swing wildly in the opposite direction.

-

If Aadhya was told two weeks ago that she’d willingly get trafficked to God knows where, she’d just laugh. However, as Aadhya huddles in the corner of a truck across from an unconscious Bilal, all she can think of was how stupid she had been. 

Two weeks ago, she was running herself ragged balancing work and her hours at the hospital. The doctors had been fairly confident, and Aadhya had believed them. They had said her mother’s chances of surviving the operation were on the higher side, and Aadhya was preparing to move her mother out of the hospital and into the spare room of her apartment in Brooklyn. She hadn’t even been worried about the costs. While her own field research kept her living reasonably, she knew that her dad could afford to, and would, pay whatever was necessary. After all, it was his fault that Aadhya and her mother were here.

Then, the call came. 

“We’re very sorry,” the doctors had said. “The patient passed peacefully,” they said. “Please collect her body,” they had said. 

Aadhya had arranged the cremation of her mother’s body, feeling entirely numb the entire time. The mortician had handed the ashes, whatever was left of her mother, to her, and all Aadhya could feel was denial. 

It had all been going well, and then her life had turned upside down in the span of a few hours. 

It was when she tried calling her dad for what was probably the fiftieth time in the last three days, and heard his standard voicemail response, that Aadhya felt frustration. One of the world’s most prominent businessmen, wealthy enough to purchase the entirety of her state and not have a dent in his finances, but what was it all for if he was too busy to even talk to her? 

Her mother had always talked about having her ashes deposited in Varanasi, constantly missing their home country. Maybe the homesickness had made her mother weaker, Aadhya would later wonder. For what her dad had done, they had all paid the price. Aadhya still didn’t know who her dad had offended, what trouble he had gotten into to have them all move to the US so suddenly seven years ago. She had been fine with the change, had given up her simple bank job to pursue a PhD in linguistics, and was now traveling the country doing various types of research. But her mother had always missed their home, the community she had left, to the point that she had always insisted on her final resting place being in India.

 Fuck it, she had thought. 

In the next few minutes she had airplane tickets, and in the next few hours she had a backpack and a suitcase ready to go. 

Aadhya wasn’t sure what she expected to happen once she landed in India. She knew it was dangerous for her to be there, but she had to do this for her mother. Aadhya only hoped she would get to the Ganga river before the consequences of her actions caught up to her, but her hopes were dashed once the trail of black SUVs surrounded her car. 

From there she had met Bilal, fought for (and lost) approval from Amma, and was now currently in a truck driven by strange men and a strange seal on her arm. 

Aadhya estimated it had been about a day since she was thrown into the truck, judging by Bilal’s sleep cycles. She didn’t know what was up with that man, why he was so willing to give up even his own life for her, but she was glad for the company. Even if all he did was look at her like she was going to die any second. 

They had stopped to give her food twice, and all in all it wasn’t a bad kidnapping experience. The drunk guy, Rinda, had made a pass at her the first time he saw her, but after she told him to fuck off he had just shrugged and staggered away, muttering under his breath about Nepali women being much nicer. The other goons had barely even looked her way the entire journey. 

As soon as she thinks about how nice it would be to see the sun again, the truck rolls to a stop, and some of the goons bang on the outside of the truck. 

“Get out, your time is up now!” They joke. Aadhya wonders who’s waiting for her outside, who she might have to gain approval from now to survive. 

She looks to Bilal as she jumps out of the door of the truck, wincing at the pins-and-needles sensation in her feet from sitting still too long. 

“Don’t piss her off,” he says. 

“Who?” 

“Don’t piss either of them off,” he amends. 

Before she can ask who once more, she’s led into another black SUV, and she can see Bilal getting into the one behind her. 

The truck driver is the same guy driving her to wherever she’s going now, and Rinda gets in the passenger seat. 

Aadhya stares at him, wondering if he at least would have some answers.

“Where are we going?” she asks in Telugu. “Who are we seeing?”

Rinda just laughs. “Lots of questions, darling?” He looks at her face in the rearview mirror, and her clear frustration must show because he takes pity on her. 

“You’re meeting with Obullamma,” he says. 

The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Who’s that?”

“Radha Rama’s maid,” he says, still annoyingly vague. But Aadhya can detect a tinge of fear, a sense of respect at the sound of the second woman’s name. 

“What do I have to do with either of them?” 

“...Your nanna didn’t tell you anything, did he?”

The mention of Krishnakanth hurts, making Aadhya turn to the window. Tears prickle at her eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, she misses her dad. He had sounded so worried on the phone, days ago. She wonders what he was doing now. 

It’s a short journey before they pull up to what clearly used to be a grand mansion, but had fallen into disrepair. 

“Well, bangaram, you’ll get answers now,” Rinda sighs. “And I need another drink.”

Aadhya needed a drink. But she probably wasn’t going to get one anytime soon, she thinks sadly. She really doesn’t want to deal with this shit sober. Alcohol had always calmed her down, soothed the always-tense bundle of nerves inside her. 

She and Bilal are guided up the stairs of the mansion, and Aadhya can hear the sound of a rubbu rolu clanging as she gets closer inside. Bilal is immediately ushered out of the main room, and Aadhya hopes that means they’re not going to kill him. 

Aadhya sees a woman first, sitting at a table, calmly grinding the pestle against her mortar. Is this Obullamma? she wonders.  

“Amma Aadhya?” At first, she thinks she mishears. That can’t be her dad, right?

“Dad?”

Standing in the corner of the room, surrounded by more men, is her dad. No suit, no tie, no advisors surrounding him. Her dad, just as he is. 

His button down is soaked through with sweat, and she can see relief and fear warring on his face. 

“Aadhya! You shouldn’t have come here, dear,” he cries. 

“Dad!” She tries to make her way to him, to fall into his arms, but one of Rinda’s men grabs her arms to stop her. 

“Obullamma!” Rinda calls to the woman, who stops grinding and glares up at him. “I’ve brought Krishnakanth’s daughter, I completed the job. Ika selavu [I’ll take a leave now].” Rinda walks out briskly, and oh, he did not like that woman. 

Obullamma keeps glaring at the disappearing silhouette of Rinda for a few more seconds, mouth curling into a sneer, before she turns to Krishnakanth. 

“Choosava? [Did you see?] I was able to bring your daughter in front of me within a few days. How did you think you could ever escape me?” Obullamma speaks slowly, but sharply, placing emphasis on almost every word out of her mouth. There’s a fascinating lilt to her accent that Aadhya would love to study some day. 

“Your quarrel is with me, not her!” Krishnakanth yells, but his tone turns pleading a second later. “Do anything you want with me, just please, let my daughter go.”

Aadhya looks at him in horror. “No, Dad! It was me who made the decision to come to India, it was me who put you and Bilal at risk by doing so.” She hangs her head, feeling the guilt and shame come back. Stupid, she had been so stupid. “I’ll face whatever punishment it’ll be,” she says, trying to project the veneer of calmness she had seen on Deva the past few days. If only she had his strength. 

“Is that so?” Aadhya hears someone new from the other side, and notices a woman sitting on the floor that she hadn’t seen when she had come in. This voice is commanding, and confident in a way that Obullamma or even Rinda’s voice hadn’t been. This was a woman who was used to taking, a woman who was used to others giving. 

The woman turns to face her, and oh damn she was hot. Dressed in an elegant black saree, the woman had beautiful kohl lined eyes, and power in every inch of her stature. She even sat with the straight back of someone used to a throne. 

“You offer to take his place, despite not knowing what he did. Why?” The woman asks. 

This must be Radha Rama then, Aadhya thinks. 

“It was me who made the choice, it was me who should face the consequences. Isn’t that fair?” Aadhya asks. “And…” she falters, looking at her dad, who’s staring at her with shame and regret. She straightens, and looks Radha Rama in the eyes. “And he’s my dad. I love him. I’ll do anything to protect him.” 

Radha Rama looks taken aback. It’s only for an instant before Aadhya watches the mask drop down over her face, as the surprise is replaced with contemplation. 

Obullamma sneers. “Like we want to make a deal with you, girl. We’re going to kill you in front of your nanna, and then we’ll kill him after. Both of you are dying anyway.”

Aadhya trembles at the mention of her death, but steels herself. There were worse ways to go. 

Like what?? Her inner voice says, and she ignores it. 

“I accept your deal.”

Radha Rama’s voice cuts through whatever Obullamma was going to say next, as she rises into a standing position, and turns to fully face Aadhya. 

“I- ammagaru?” Obullamma gasps. “You can stand?”

Aadhya frowns. What the fuck kind of question-

“Obullamma, make the necessary arrangements. Aadhya Krishnakanth,” she turns to inspect Aadhya from her head to her toes, and Aadhya blushes, “is going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future. At least until her brother shows up.” Radha Rama smirks at the sight of a gaping Krishnakanth. “Let the poor man go, he’s scared shitless already.”

Krishnakanth cries out, “No! Radha Rama! You can’t do this!” 

Radha Rama motions at the men near the doorway, and they bodily drag Krishnakanth out of the mansion. 

“Dad!” Aadhya tries to reach for him, to reassure him. “It’s okay!”

“Aadhya! Rama, she’s innocent!” Krishnakanth keeps shouting until his voice gets muffled by the doors of the car he’s pushed into. 

Aadhya turns to the woman that had just spared her dad’s life, who’s idly inspecting her nails. 

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” Too late, she processes what Radha Rama had said earlier. “And what do you mean… my brother?”

Radha Rama smiles at her, and Aadhya shivers. It feels like the smile of a predator that had successfully cornered its prey. She suddenly turns her head to Obullamma, who’s still sitting in shock. 

“I said, make the necessary arrangements.” Obullamma hurriedly agrees, earrings jingling with the force of her head shaking. “Show her to a room. Tell her to freshen up. I want lunch prepared in twenty minutes.” Radha Rama looks at Aadhya. “We’ll discuss business then.”

“Ammagaru, you want… lunch?”

“Did I stutter?” The temperature of the room drops about twenty degrees, and Obullamma jumps out of her chair. 

“No, ammagaru. I’ll have it prepared.”

Aadhya is led through a door near the entrance, to where she presumes she’ll be staying for the next.. few days? weeks? She can’t help but turn her head right before she leaves the room, to find that Radha Rama is already watching her. 

She shivers once again at the gleam in Radha Rama’s eyes, and hastily turns around. Hopefully she’ll find out soon, Aadhya thinks, about whatever the fuck was going on. 

-

-

Aadhya comes back, fresh from her shower, and is shown to the seat at the opposite end of the table to where Radha Rama was already sitting. A female guard had handed Aadhya a new cotton top and pair of jeans for her to wear, and she could see that Radha Rama had also changed into a yellow saree. The table was laden with various dishes, and both of their plates were already filled with a sampling of each dish. After a silent look from the older woman, all of the guards bow their heads and leave the room. Obullamma also leaves, not before giving Aadhya a look that’s half confusion and half jealousy. 

I don’t know what’s going on either! Don’t look at me like I stole your favorite toy! Aadhya wants to yell at her, but figures that would not be good for her life. 

Finally, Radha Rama turns her gaze to Aadhya, who can’t help but squirm. 

Why the hell was this woman so hot??

She tilts her face, studying Aadhya for a few seconds. Aadhya hopes she won’t take long to decide whatever it was she was deciding, because she hadn’t had actual good food in days. 

Radha Rama finally speaks. She gestures to Aadhya’s plate. “Eat.”

Aadhya hesitantly mixes some pappu with some rice, and brings the hand to her mouth to take a bite. Swallowing, she tries to be polite. “The food is really good.”

Radha Rama keeps looking at her coolly. “I know. I have some of the best chefs in the country working for me.”

Interesting, Aadhya thinks. The words were not meant as a boast, but as a mere fact. Of course Radha Rama, whoever this woman was, would have incredible private chefs. 

She nods, and keeps eating, trying not to show her embarrassment on her face. What would it take for this woman to be impressed? A few seconds later, Aadhya realizes Radha Rama hadn’t eaten anything yet, and her heart skips a beat. Silently praying that the food wasn’t poisoned or something, she tries conversation again. “You should eat too.” And because apparently her mouth has no filter, she can’t help but joke. “You’re missing out on some great dal.”

Radha Rama looks taken aback, then the side of her lip curls up. “...You’re right.” 

Aadhya watches as the older woman, almost like she forgot how to, slowly mixes her own rice and pappu, and tastes it. Her eyes close, and she slowly chews, like she’s experiencing the taste for the first time. Abruptly, Radha Rama opens her eyes like she just realized she’s being watched, and Aadhya can’t hide her wide-eyed look in time. 

Radha Rama chuckles at her, but it’s not mean this time. “I pretended to be insane and incapable of doing anything on my own for seven years. It’s why Obullamma was so surprised that I could stand, and it’s why I haven’t eaten by myself in so long.”

Aadhya… digests that information. She doesn’t want to pry, whatever would make a person do all that would probably be upsetting, so she continues eating. 

They spend some time in silence, and Aadhya is aware that Radha Rama is letting her watch the woman enjoy her food, but what the end game is there Aadhya has no idea. Eventually her curiosity gets too much for her to stay quiet. 

“So why am I here?” 

Radha finishes chewing before answering. “I want your brother here.” She frowns. “The original plan was for him to rescue you from Rinda. He would have broken the seal, and he and that lover of his-” The word ‘lover’ is spat with a sneer. “-would’ve fought to the death. Even he has to abide by the Nibandhanam. One of them would live, and whoever survived I could easily pick off. That is, if they hadn’t mutually destroyed each other.” She shrugs. “But he didn’t do what I expected him to, so I just had Vedha send him a message about your parentage. Now he’ll show up, take you away, and Rinda can go cry to his dear karta that your brother broke the seal.”

Aadhya has so many questions she doesn’t even know where to start. 

“Ok,” she says, trying to process. “Ok, even before I ask who the hell my brother is supposed to be, or what the hell a nibandhanam is, you could have still killed me and sent him a message about that. Then he could’ve come to get revenge or something, breaking the seal by killing Rinda. That was Obullamma’s plan, right? So why am I here?”

Radha Rama studies her, like she’s unsure of whether she should say what she’s thinking of. Finally, she answers. “You remind me of myself.”

“Thank you?” It comes out as more of a question than Aadhya wants it to be. “How so?”

“You were willing to do anything for your father. And brave enough to stand up to the people that kidnapped you, making a deal with them. I was that way, once.” Radha Rama, having finished eating, uses her glass to wash her hands in her plate, and stands up. She slowly makes her way over to Aadhya, who’s sitting frozen. Radha Rama puts her hands on either side of Aadhya’s corner of the table, and leans into her space. 

Aadhya can see now that Radha Rama had taken her time freshening up in the time before lunch. The kajal had been reapplied to her waterline, her hair was neatly braided down her back, and the faded bottu had been replaced by a striking red one. Was that.. perfume? Aadhya can smell a faint floral scent, something expensive. Up close, she can see how much she had underestimated the older woman’s beauty. Even at her age, which Aadhya estimates to be around fifteen years older than herself, Radha Rama is regal and commanding, eyes piercing through Aadhya’s very soul. 

“I was once like that,” Radha Rama repeats herself. “I was going to be the next karta, did you know that? After my dear father’s reign ended. I would have ruled, as I was told since I was a child. I grew up with no votes, no power, no friends, because everyone assumed I would get my fifteen and a kingdom as soon as the time was right.” Aadhya has no idea what a karta is but she believes it, can see this woman on a throne. 

“I sacrificed so much for that throne,” Radha Rama continues, voice dropping into an intimate whisper that does things to Aadhya’s stomach, and she can’t help but glance at the older woman’s dark lips as she talks. “I married a man I didn’t love. I played watchdog for my idiot brother and that boytoy of his, fought for a ceasefire for that ungrateful bastard child, and for what? To be betrayed, to be cast aside like I was nothing.” She focuses back on Aadhya. “Us both, sisters of men who have never cared about anything other than their own self interest, daughters of men who we’ve been separated from, and daughters of dead mothers.” 

Radha Rama leans back, smirking at Aadhya who slowly lets out the breath she had been holding, wiping her hand on a nearby napkin to conceal the way it had been shaking. “That’s what I see in you.” 

Aadhya, for once in her life, practices great restraint to not immediately suggest for this woman to meet with a therapist. She has no idea what Radha Rama was talking about but she knows this speech was seven years overdue. 

She also has to practice great restraint to not jump this woman’s bones. 

Aadhya is saved from her thoughts from the servants that come to take her plate, and she smiles at them. “Thank you,” she tells them in English. 

Once the plates are gone, she looks over to see Radha Rama, now lounging in her chair. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she offers. Radha Rama raises an eyebrow.

“You had no idea what I was talking about, don’t lie.” 

Aadhya shrugs. “No. But as a fellow woman, I’m still sorry that happened to you.” She sees it again, that flicker of surprise in Radha Rama’s face. She presses her luck. “So who’s this brother of mine? Why haven’t I ever seen or heard of him before?”

Radha Rama just laughs again, and Aadhya tries not to instinctively smile along with it. The laughter is sharp and melodic, and goddamn Aadhya stop acting like you have a school crush-

“You spent the last few days with him and your birth mother, actually,” she says. Aadhya stares at her, then the realization hits. 

The momentary elation of learning she has more family members disappears when she remembers the last time she saw who was apparently her biological mother. Of course Aadhya had known she was adopted her whole life, her parents had never shied away from that fact. Aadhya just had never bothered looking for her biological parents. Now, thinking about Amma’s accusing glare, about Deva’s complete indifference to her safety, she wishes she never found out. Aadhya doesn’t know how much Deva knew about her adoption, but there was no way Amma didn’t know Aadhya was her own family when she realized she was Krishnakanth’s daughter. And she still let them take me away.

Radha Rama watches with confusion, as Aadhya’s face falls. “You didn’t like them?” she asks incredulously. 

“More like they didn’t like me,” Aadhya chuckles wetly.

Radha Rama frowns. “Why the hell not? What’s wrong with you?”

Aadhya wants to laugh again. How come this stranger, the woman who had kidnapped her, was treating her better than her own family? 

“Well, it doesn't matter. Either he’ll come to rescue you once he finds out you’re his sister, or…” Aadhya looks up to see a glint in the older woman’s eyes. “Or Obullamma will get her wish.”

A chill runs down Aadhya’s spine. Stupid, she thinks. She had completely forgotten about the fact that there wasn’t much stopping Radha Rama from killing her, that the woman was very much capable of killing her if her stories of ruling were to be believed, and went and started crushing on her. 

Radha Rama smirks at her visible fear, before calling for a guard to escort Aadhya back to her room. 

It takes a while for Aadhya to fall asleep, but when she does, she dreams of Obullamma taking a knife to her face, gleefully slicing it open. In the background, she can see Deva watching it happen, face blank and body unmoving. The dream suddenly shifts, and she’s now on her back, she can’t move- why can’t I move?? and she hears the voice of a young boy in the background. She can’t make out the words for some reason but he sounds distressed, pleading. The dream finally shifts once more to the hospital room she stayed in for days. Aadhya notices her mother, lying on the hospital bed but not hooked up to any of the machines. She’s dressed in one of her regular chudidars, the pink one with dancing figures around the border, not the patient gowns Aadhya had last seen her in. 

Her mother lifts a hand up to caress Aadhya’s face. 

“Naa bangaru thalli [my golden daughter],” she says, her smile radiating joy. “You were the best gift I ever got.”

Aadhya smiles back, wishing she could stay in this moment forever.

-

-

The next day Aadhya wakes, frowning at the amount of sunlight casting rays across her bed. Had they let her sleep in? What time was it?

There are faint tears on her face that she brushes away, remembering her dream. Her mother’s death feels so long ago, and yet almost like it happened yesterday. Aadhya wonders what her mom would’ve thought about the situation she was in now, risking her life to save her dad. She wonders what her mom would’ve thought about Radha Rama. 

She frowns, remembering the other parts of the dream. The details are fuzzy, but she remembers Obullamma taking a knife to her face. Aadhya resolves to avoid Obullamma as best as she can for the rest of her stay here as she walks into the bathroom and starts to brush her teeth. 

Radha Rama had said she was going to send Vedha to talk to Deva, how long would that take? A few days? She couldn’t just call him or something?

And speaking of Deva…

The familiar bitterness creeps up inside her as she thinks of the man. It wasn’t like she was some damsel in distress that needed to be saved from thugs like in those Indian movies she watched growing up. She didn’t want anyone to start a war for her sake. But, when Bilal hyped Deva up so much, that he was so powerful she would be safe with him, Aadhya had been expecting much more. 

What exactly she had been expecting, Aadhya didn’t know, but it certainly wasn’t some mama’s boy. She thinks back to how quiet he was, how hollowed out his presence felt, especially in front of his mother. Radha Rama had mentioned Deva’s lover. Who were they? Was it a bad breakup? Was that why Deva was still living with his mom? 

And speaking of his mom, what had happened to her to make her so paranoid, so toxic? She hadn’t even cared for the safety of the kids as the fire started, so preoccupied over a plastic knife?

She sighs as she rinses her mouth out, pressing the towel to her face. 

What kind of fucked up family was this? Aadhya has never been more glad to be adopted. Even if she and her dad had a rocky relationship, at least she had the confidence that her dad would be there for her. She didn’t have even that for Deva, and much less for Amma. 

Aadhya turns the shower on, and takes her clothes off as she thinks. 

Even though Radha Rama had told her a lot yesterday, it felt like she had even more questions. What was a karta? Was the woman from a royal family? Was Deva’s lover from Radha Rama’s place as well? Did the people there know her dad, and was that why they had to move? Was Radha Rama’s husband still alive?

Aadhya winces at the last thought, and turns the knob down to make the water run cold. Shut up, she tells her brain, and gets into the shower. 

It’s definitely midday by the time she makes it out of her room, now dressed in a periwinkle churidar set someone had put in her closet. She frowns as she realizes the churidar today and the set of clothes yesterday fit perfectly. When the fuck did they get my measurements??

She resolves to ask about it, and starts roaming around the place. Initially, she tries to find Radha Rama, but when the servants hardly glance at her walking around, she decides to explore the place instead. 

It feels like one of those guest houses she sees in movies, but slightly more shabby. Aadhya thinks back to Radha Rama telling her she had spent seven years pretending she was insane, and the fact that there’s already more people bustling around here today than there were yesterday. Most of the rooms she walks into are empty, with no traces of life, but she still tries all of the doors. Not like she had anything better to do, anyway. She finds one room full of taxidermied animals, that she immediately closes the door on. She won’t let this place give her any more nightmares, thank you very much. Another room has decorative weapons hung up on the walls. Or at least, she assumes they’re decorative, it would probably have more security if they weren’t decorative. Or maybe they think she’s incapable of firing a gun. Aadhya frowns at that realization. While it’s true that she hasn’t ever held a weapon in her life, she thinks it wouldn’t be too hard to fire a gun. Just pull the trigger, right? She then remembers that Hollywood movie she saw where the old woman nearly killed herself with the recoil of the shotgun she was holding, and resolves to never be in that situation, actually. 

It’s about an hour later that Aadhya finds a room full of silver jewelry that seem to have been hastily stuffed into the chests on the floor, and enjoys trying on some ornate pieces. Radha Rama was definitely royalty, she thinks to herself as she puts on a nose ring with silver lotuses carved onto it. 

She smiles at herself in the mirror, thinking that she might get a piercing someday, when she sees the kajal lined eyes staring at her from the doorway. Aadhya yelps and turns around to see Radha Rama smirking at her, leaning on the doorframe. 

Oh shit. 

“I’m so sorry,” Aadhya immediately starts in English. “These are probably yours, I just walked in and they looked pretty so I had to try them on-”

Radha Rama doesn’t look upset, though, just more amused as Aadhya keeps up the word vomit. 

“-I’ve always wanted a piercing actually, is this nose ring yours? It looks really cool…” Aadhya trails off as something occurs to her. “Do.. do you understand me? Can you speak English?” She switches languages. “Should I speak in Telugu?”

Radha Rama scoffs. “Who do you take me for?” she says, in a crisp Indian English accent. “I grew up learning all of the major languages of the world from my tutors.” She lifts her head high. “A karta should be able to communicate with all of the other world leaders.”

“...All of the major ones?” 

“Eta hain ezagunak ez direnak ere bai. [And some of the lesser known ones as well]”

Aadhya’s eyes get very wide. “You speak Basque??”

It’s now Radha Rama’s turn to look surprised. “Do you?”

Aadhya laughs, slightly panicking. No way. No fucking way it was her whole type in one hot 5 foot something slightly evil woman. Shit. She was well and truly fucked. “Pixka bat [somewhat],” she stammers out. “I’m a linguistics researcher by profession, actually. My entire passion is learning about the morphology of different languages around the world.”

Radha Rama scans her, top to bottom, in a show of genuine interest that has Aadhya burning up. “Well, color me impressed,” she says at last. She seems to remember where they were, and glances around the room, then at the nose ring Aadhya’s still holding in her hands. 

“Do you want that?” she asks, nodding at the nose ring.

Aadhya glances down at it, then shakes her head. “Oh no, sorry. I was just trying it on. Silver isn’t my color, I wear gold.”

Radha Rama accepts that. “Well, you missed breakfast. It’s now time for lunch. Come join me downstairs in the dining hall.”

Aadhya blinks. Hot woman was asking to have lunch with her. “Ok,” she agrees, quickly putting the nose ring back where she found it, and follows Radha Rama out of the room. 

-

Lunch had been amazing, and Aadhya made sure to compliment the chef once more. They had started out discussing some of Aadhya’s research, and spent the rest of lunch debating the merits of using Esperanto as a global standard. 

The older woman had been easy to talk to. While she wasn’t too familiar with linguistics in general, she was intelligent, and a fast learner. She also seemed genuinely interested in what Aadhya had to say, and didn’t mind when Aadhya went on mini rants about some of her field experiences. She was still intimidating, and could be incredibly blunt when she wanted to, but Aadhya felt that it wasn’t a slight against her specifically, that the woman was just like that in general. 

Radha Rama had left soon after they finished eating, saying she had some work with Obullamma. 

After a few more hours of wandering around, Aadhya opens the door to find Bilal of all people doing yoga on the floor beside his bed. 

He doesn’t open his eyes as he speaks. “I’m still not going to tell you guys anything, no matter what you do.”

“...Bilal?”

His eyes fly open. “You’re still alive??” He asks, incredulously. 

“Yes?” Aadhya doesn’t know whether to be touched by the concern in his eyes or offended at the idea that she wasn’t capable of keeping herself alive for another day. 

He immediately rises to his feet, and hugs her. Aadhya hugs him back, relieved to see him either way. When he pulls back, he checks her for injuries, frowning at the lack of them. 

“Bilal,” she sighs. “I’m fine, really.”

“How?” he asks once more, still looking like he’s in shock. 

“Bilal, do you want me to be hurt?”

He winces. “Sorry, thalli. I just can’t believe that with all the hate Obullamma has towards your family, she hasn’t hurt you.”

“Oh she wanted to,” Aadhya says. “Radha Rama’s keeping her off of me for now.”

Bilal looks relieved, then immediately horrified. “Who is keeping her off of you??”

“...Radha Rama? Radha Rama Mannar I think she said her full name was.”

Bilal stares at the wall behind Aadhya for a good ten seconds, then takes a deep breath. “What the fuck.”

Her confusion must show in her face, because Bilal takes pity on her. “You mean to tell me you pissed off Obullamma but somehow got on Radha Rama’s good side? Of all people?”

Aadhya just shrugs. 

“I don’t know much about what’s going on, just that Radha Rama doesn’t want to kill me just yet because she sees herself in me or something? She said she’s getting Deva to come here to find me.” And because she’s paying attention to it, she notices the small flicker, the eye twitch as soon as she mentions Deva’s name. 

Aadhya homes in on it. “You knew, didn’t you? The whole time. That Deva was my brother.”

Bilal winces. “Yes. I’m assuming Radha Rama told you then?”

Aadhya nods. “What really happened? What is this place? Radha Rama said she was going to be a karta, whatever that is. What’s going on?”

Bilal sighs, and tells her the story of two soulmates turned enemies. 

-

Varadha. Varadharaja Mannar was the name of the ex that had destroyed her brother, the guilt of what he had done to Varadha’s brother reducing Deva to the shell that he was today. And Deva, he was the heir of one of the ruling clans of Khansaar. Which meant…

Her head spins. Before she can ask Bilal what that means for her, the door opens and Obullamma walks in. Aadhya winces. So much for her resolution of avoiding Obullamma today. 

Obullamma sneers at Aadhya. “Get out, girl. Bilal and I,” she glares at the man, “are going to catch up." Aadhya glances at Bilal, who gestures for her to go. 

“Go, Aadhya. This has nothing to do with you.”

She reluctantly leaves the room, glancing one last time worriedly at Bilal. If they hadn’t killed him yet, they probably weren’t going to kill him now, she figures.  Aadhya needs a drink after that revelation, so she goes to find someone she can bother for one.

-