Meant to be yours

Finally, We met

Morning light spilled across the hallway as Ishika stepped out, bag slung over her shoulder.
Riya, already awake and very much not glowing, looked up from the couch.
She squinted.
Paused.
Then squinted harder.
“…Wow.”
Ishika stopped. “What?”
Riya slowly stood, circling her like a detective at a crime scene. “You look… hydrated. Peaceful. Like someone who slept very well.”
Ishika cleared her throat, suddenly fascinated by the floor. “I just… slept.”
Riya snorted. “That is the face of someone who did not just sleep.”
Ishika tried to walk past her. Failed.
Riya leaned in, whispering loudly, “Must be nice. Some of us confessed our love and got left on read by unconsciousness.”
Ishika bit her lip, smiling despite herself. “Riya—”
“No no,” Riya waved her off. “Don’t explain. I see the glow. The calm. The audacity.”
Ishika laughed. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re unbearable this morning,” Riya shot back. “Come on. I’m dropping you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I insist,” Riya said, already grabbing her keys. “I have complaints. You are the only witness.”
Minutes later, they were in the car, pulling onto the road.
Riya drove like she had unresolved emotions and a full tank of fuel.
“So,” she began sweetly. “Do you know what Payal did after confessing her feelings?”
Ishika sighed. “Riya…”
“She yawned,” Riya continued. “Then she slept. On my shoulder. Like love is a lullaby.”
Ishika tried not to laugh. Tried. Failed.
“I lay there,” Riya went on, gesturing wildly with one hand, “replaying every word, every look, wondering if I imagined the whole thing—while she was in REM sleep.”
“Maybe she was overwhelmed?” Ishika offered gently.
“She was horizontal,” Riya replied. “Emotionally and physically.”
They both laughed.
The car slowed suddenly.
A white SUV swerved in front of them and stopped—blocking the road completely.
Riya slammed the brakes. “What the—”
Ishika’s laughter died instantly. Her heart jumped.
Before either of them could react—
Ishika’s phone rang.
The screen lit up with a single name.
Anamika.
Both of them stared at it.
The timing was too perfect.
Too wrong.
Riya swallowed. “That’s… unsettling.”
Ishika’s fingers tightened around the phone as it kept ringing.
Outside, the white SUV idled silently.
Inside, the air shifted—from teasing and laughter to sharp, uneasy quiet.
“Ishika,” Riya said softly, eyes fixed on the SUV. “I think your morning just got complicated.”
The call was still ringing.

Riya answered the call because Ishika couldn’t move.
Her hands were frozen on her lap, breath shallow, eyes locked on the white SUV ahead like it might blink first.
" Hi,Anu."
“Riya, where are you?” Anamika’s voice came sharp and breathless the second the call connected. “Come back. Right now. With Ishi.”
Riya swallowed, eyes darting to the side mirror.
A door opened.
Then another.
Men stepped out—four of them at first—faces blank, movements practiced. One of them casually lifted his jacket.
Metal flashed.
“A little too late,” Riya said quietly, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I think we have a problem.”
“What problem?” Anamika snapped.
Riya’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as another man raised his arm—gun clearly visible now, no attempt to hide it.
“They’ve got guns,” Riya said. “And they’re walking toward us.”
Ishika’s breath hitched. “Riya—”
Riya slammed the gear into reverse.
The engine roared.
For half a second—hope.
Then tires screeched behind them.
A second SUV slid in from the rear like it had been waiting for the cue, stopping inches from their bumper.
Blocked.
“Damn it,” Riya hissed.
She twisted the wheel left.
Another vehicle rolled forward from that side.
Right—same.
The road had shrunk into a cage.
“Riya,” Anamika’s voice came again, lower now. Controlled panic. “What’s going on?”
“We’re trapped,” Riya said, breath coming faster now despite herself. “I don’t know who they are. They’re closing in. I have no exit.”
Outside, the men spread out—not rushing, not shouting. That was what made it terrifying. They knew they had time.
One of them tapped the hood of the car with his knuckles.
Knock. Knock.
Ishika flinched violently.
Another leaned down slightly, peering through the windshield, gun hanging loose in his hand like it weighed nothing.
“mika—” Ishika finally whispered, leaning toward the phone. “They’re—”
The sound of Anamika exhaling sharply cut her off.
“Shit,” Anamika muttered. Then again, harsher. “Shit.”
There was frantic movement on the other end—voices, hurried footsteps.
Then, very softly but unmistakably—
“Payal,” Anamika's  voice said, voice tight with something between fear and fury, “be prepared to be a widow.”
The line went dead.
“Anamika?” Ishika said, panic breaking through. “Anu—!”
She stared at the screen.
Call ended.
Outside, one of the men raised his gun—not pointing it yet. Just letting it be seen.
A warning.
Riya took a slow, shaking breath and reached across, gripping Ishika’s hand hard.
“Listen to me,” she said, voice low, urgent. “No matter what happens, don’t unlock the door unless I tell you. Don’t say anything. Don’t move.”
Ishika nodded, tears blurring her vision.
The man at the front bent down again, smiling faintly this time.
He knocked once more on the hood.
Knock.
The morning sun felt cruelly bright.
And somewhere far away, Anamika was already on her way.