The morning at Hotel Aarya started the way most mornings with Mimi did — loudly.
Krishna was still half-asleep in his king-sized bed, the air conditioner humming softly, when his phone lit up with a video call. The preview showed Mimi’s face squished up against her bunny plushie.
He declined the call.
Ten seconds later, there was knocking at the adjoining door. Then came her sing-song voice:
“Krishhh, open up before I climb through the balcony like a K-drama heroine!”
He groaned, dragging himself out of bed, his black satin pajama shirt hanging loose. When he opened the door, Mimi didn’t wait for an invitation — she bounced in, wearing a pastel hoodie so oversized it almost reached her knees, hair in messy twin buns, carrying a tray of room service breakfast.
She hopped straight onto his bed, crossed her legs, and patted the space beside her.
“Sit. Eat. And… let me feed you, because you always take forever.”
Before he could argue, she was already holding up a forkful of scrambled eggs toward his mouth. He leaned in, half-smiling. “You know I can feed myself, right?”
“I know,” she said cheerfully, “but where’s the fun in that?”
Halfway through the breakfast, she decided the blanket wasn’t comfortable enough and slid closer, tucking herself into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
From the doorway, Ishi appeared — crisp white sleeveless blouse, wide-leg linen trousers, her auburn-tipped hair tied into a low knot. Her eyes flicked from Mimi practically leaning on Krishna, to the tray on his lap, to Krishna himself.
“Morning,” Ishi said, her tone smooth but cool. “We need to leave in twenty minutes. The fabric market gets crowded fast.”
Mimi tilted her head innocently. “Don’t worry, I’m making sure he eats enough energy for shopping.” She took the liberty of buttering another toast slice for him.
“I’m sure you are,” Ishi replied, turning on her heel — but her shoulders were a touch stiffer than usual.
By the time they reached the lobby, Adi was waiting in distressed joggers and a loose tank, sunglasses perched in his hair, tapping a rhythm on his thigh like an impatient metronome. Ravi stood beside him, holding two iced coffees — one for himself and one he silently passed to Krishna the moment he walked in.
“Finally,” Adi said with exaggerated relief. “Did you guys have to finish a rom-com episode upstairs before coming down?”
Mimi beamed. “Maybe.”
Krishna just sipped his coffee.
Their hired SUV — sleek black, with beige leather seats — purred to life as they slid in. Ishi took the passenger seat, tablet in hand, already scrolling through fabric vendor lists she’d bookmarked last night.
From the backseat, Mimi leaned forward between the two front seats, resting her chin lightly on Krishna’s shoulder.
“You’re helping me pick fabrics first, right?”
“I’m helping everyone pick fabrics,” Krishna said.
“Mm,” Mimi hummed, eyes glinting. “But I’m going first.”
Ishi’s gaze lifted from her tablet just enough to meet Mimi’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Neither girl looked away first.
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