Malika stepped into the room and immediately locked eyes with Avi.
She didn't need more than a second.
He was off.
Too quiet. Too still. His arms were crossed tight, and his eyes didn't meet hers. His posture screamed tense, even if his mouth said nothing.
Something had happened.
She didn't ask. Not directly.
Instead, she walked in with a light smile, kicked off her sandals, and dropped her tone into something softer.
"Don't tell me you're already tired before the fair even starts."
Avi gave a half-smile. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous hobby," Malika replied, sitting in the armchair across from him. "Today's for food, music, and watching strangers make fools of themselves on carnival rides."
That got a slight smirk out of him.
She pressed on, weaving harmless talk about the fair—childhood memories, hidden snack stalls, and the fortune-teller who always guessed wrong. Slowly, she felt the tension ease just a little from Avi's frame.
Just enough.
Then the bedroom door creaked open.
Shalini stepped out, dressed for the day in a deep rust-colored kurti that flowed around her curves and sheer black leggings that caught the light with every step. Her earrings shimmered softly. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, tied loosely, framing her flushed face in an effortless way.
Avi looked away quickly.
Malika watched him look away.
Shalini, calm and unreadable, gave a faint smile. "All set?"
"Let's go," Malika said quickly, standing up. "First, the fair. Then my place—you'll meet my sisters, cousins, whoever else is around. We eat, we gossip, we roll back here and pass out. Sound good?"
Avi nodded. "Yeah."
The three of them stepped out of the room and headed down the corridor.
As they reached the hotel's back exit, a door opened quietly ahead.
Ravi and Prayush stepped out, wearing plain clothes and fabric masks over their faces. Neither said a word. They didn't make eye contact. Just kept walking.
Shalini saw them. Her eyes lingered for a second—but she didn't react. Neither did Malika.
The boys moved quietly toward the road, turning the opposite direction. Heading home.
Their part was done.
As the taxi pulled up, the three slipped inside. Malika and Shalini slid into the back seat together. Avi took the front, beside the driver.
The door shut.
The cab pulled forward into the dusty road.
For a moment, silence.
Then Shalini leaned slightly toward Malika, lowering her voice.
"He's suspicious."
Malika glanced over, eyes sharp. "Avi?"
Shalini nodded. "This morning. While I was showering… he went into the bedroom."
Malika raised an eyebrow. "And?"
Shalini exhaled slowly. Her tone didn't change, but her eyes darkened just a shade.
"I saw him through the crack in the bathroom door. He was smelling my clothes."
Malika blinked. "What?"
"He lifted them—my kurti, my leggings—and brought them to his face. I didn't say anything. Just watched."
Malika's smile curled slowly. "Interesting."
Shalini gave a small, careful shrug. "I hadn't changed since the train. I wore that same sheer kurti and leggings all night. Slept in them."
Liar.
The truth flickered behind her eyes.
She hadn't just slept in those clothes.
She had sweated in them. Moaned in them. Let Ravi press his mouth against her thighs while Prayush held her down. She had thrown her head back in that tight turtleneck just hours ago while an old man licked every drop of heat from between her legs.
And the scent?
It wasn't from the train.
It was from what happened after.
But she couldn't say that.
So she lied.
"I guess they still smelled like… travel. And I left them on the floor while I showered. That's when he walked in."
Malika's eyes twinkled.
"And?"
"He smelled them. I think he's trying to understand something his brain hasn't caught up with yet."
Malika looked toward the front seat.
Avi was staring out the window.
Expression calm. Completely unaware they were talking about him just feet away.
"I'll keep an eye on him," Malika murmured. "You just enjoy the fair."
Shalini leaned back in the seat.
Her smile was faint, unreadable.
She watched the road roll by.
And kept the rest of her truth locked inside.
The cab rumbled forward into the growing traffic, tires crunching over uneven road, horns honking in the distance as they left the quieter lane behind.
Avi sat in the front seat, phone in hand, scrolling in silence. His earbuds were in, but he wasn't really listening to anything. Just letting the noise fill the space while his mind wandered in every direction it shouldn't.
Behind him, Malika leaned slightly forward, her voice smooth and clear.
"Driver saab, how long to the mela ground?"
The man glanced in the rearview mirror. "Ma'am, normally thirty minutes from hotel to fairground. But today… with the festival traffic? Could be one and a half, maybe two hours. Roads are jammed."
Malika smiled faintly. "Expected."
She turned to the window, squinting. Harsh sunlight was pouring in across her face, sharp through the glass, heating the seat.
"Sir," she said again, "mind if I pull the black screen on the windows? This sun's cooking me."
The driver nodded. "Of course, ma'am. No problem."
With permission granted, Malika reached up and slid the black sunshades from the frame, one on her side first, pulling it down with a faint snap. Shalini mirrored her a second later on her side, sealing them both in.
Outside visibility vanished instantly.
No one could see in now. Just the faint silhouettes moving inside. Nothing clear. Nothing public.
Malika wasn't done.
She leaned forward again and slid the tiny glass partition shut between front and back seats. Then she took her large purse and Avi's backpack and hung both on the barrier shelf behind the driver's headrest.
The message was clear:
This space is ours now.
She leaned back into her seat, now comfortably shaded, turned toward Shalini—and her voice dropped.
Low. Smooth. Velvet laced with command.
"Shalu baby…" she murmured. "Come closer."
Shalini turned, slow and curious.
Malika smiled—wide, knowing, dominant.
"Please serve me," she whispered. "Heal my aching."
Her hand moved, slow and deliberate, resting on Shalini's thigh.
Shalini froze just slightly—not in fear. In awareness.
This wasn't playful Malika anymore.
This was the Malika who had drugged Avi's juice on the train. Who had pressed Shalini against the cabin wall while he slept just meters away. Who had made her submit in silence while the train thundered forward.
Shalini's breath caught, just a fraction.
Her eyes flicked once to the front seat—Avi's head still turned toward the window, oblivious, one earbud loosely in place.
Then she looked back at Malika.
And slowly, silently, nodded.
---