Bharath stared up at her, wide-eyed, still struggling to process the whirlwind of the st twelve hours.

  She was serious.

  Still teasing, still smirking, but underneath it all, she was serious.

  That wasn’t just mischief in her eyes. It was conviction.

  He swallowed. “I… I just don’t understand how you’re real.”

  Marisol’s expression softened. She shifted slightly beneath Sarah’s weight, careful not to wake her, and leaned closer to Bharath, lowering her voice to something just above a whisper.

  “You want to know what I meant?” she said, her thumb tracing absent circles on the back of his hand. “When I said I could bat for the other team?”

  He nodded… wordless, captivated.

  She tilted her head toward Sarah’s sleeping form. “Look at her. She’s beautiful, right? I mean… she’s like someone airbrushed by a divine wind machine. All that blonde hair, those eyes, that body that makes straight girls like me question our orientation.”

  Bharath’s throat clicked as he nodded again, unable to tear his eyes away from either of them.

  Marisol continued, her voice still soft but gaining heat. “But that’s not why I said what I said. It’s not just about what Sarah looks like. It’s about how I feel right now.”

  She looked down at Sarah’s head on her chest, her fingers brushing gently over her temple.

  “This moment? Her needing us. Trusting me enough to fall asleep on me after everything she’s been through? That... does something to me. And you…” she turned back to Bharath, gaze locking onto his like a magnetic pull, “You gave me the space to feel that. To hold another woman like this without it being weird or complicated or judged. I’ve never felt that free with a man before.”

  He blinked, stunned into silence.

  Marisol smiled, a soft, secret smile. “That’s what I meant. I can feel open. Safe. Brave. Even a little wild.” Her fingers squeezed his hand. “Because I’m yours.”

  Bharath let out a long, shaky breath, his chest rising and falling like something big had just settled inside it.

  “Marisol…”

  “I mean it,” she said, suddenly serious again. “You’re not just someone I’m hooking up with. You’ve changed something in me. Opened a door I didn’t even know I had locked.”

  She leaned closer, her other hand now cradling his cheek, thumb brushing the side of his mouth. “I was scared to say it. To admit how hard I was falling. But then I almost lost you tonight. And now?” Her voice trembled. “Now I don’t want to hold anything back.”

  She kissed him… slow, deep, and full of the kind of emotion that made the air feel too thick.

  It wasn’t just sensual. It was intimate.

  Healing.

  When she pulled back, her eyes shimmered in the low light. “I love you, Bharath. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  Bharath’s throat tightened. He touched her hand gently, reverently, his forehead resting against hers.

  “I love you too,” he whispered, the words feeling both terrifying and perfect. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I promise I’ll never take it for granted.”

  She smiled again, this time with tears in her eyes. “Good. Because I’m already pnning our wedding pylist.”

  He ughed—a shaky, beautiful sound.

  And then, like fate had impeccable timing, Sarah shifted again—one long, fwless leg kicking free from the bnket, her shirt riding up just a little too high, revealing even more golden skin and the peek of soft cleavage pressing into Marisol’s side.

  Bharath’s breath hitched audibly.

  Marisol followed his gaze.

  Then smirked.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, stifling a ugh. “Again?”

  “It’s a reflex!” he hissed, desperate. “I swear it’s not disrespectful, I’m just… there’s too much beauty in one pce! My brain can’t process this!”

  Marisol clutched her stomach, barely holding in her ughter. “You’re like a puppy trying to process a thunderstorm.”

  “I’m injured!” he groaned. “I need medical attention! Not temptation!”

  “You need cold water and a lecture on boundaries.”

  He slumped dramatically back onto the floor.

  She looked down at him and, despite herself, felt the same wild affection bloom all over again. He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t slick or polished or smooth.

  But he was hers.

  And somehow, despite everything, tonight, now, always… she was his.

  Sarah stirred.

  It started with a small twitch, a breath catching differently in her throat. Then her shes fluttered, her brow furrowed slightly. She shifted against Marisol, stretching one leg out and making a soft sound in her throat, almost like a purr.

  Marisol had just kissed Bharath’s knuckles.

  He was still looking up at her, eyes wide and heart full, when Sarah cracked one eye open.

  The tiniest smirk pyed on her lips.

  “Oh,” she said sleepily. “Did I miss a confession?”

  Marisol blinked. “Sarah…”

  The blonde sat up slowly, her hair a tousled halo, t-shirt riding up high on her thighs. “You said you love him, didn’t you?”

  Bharath froze like someone had hit pause.

  Sarah turned to Marisol, arching one perfect brow. “And here I thought I was the dramatic one.”

  Marisol flushed, but her chin stayed high. “You are. But I’m the brave one.”

  Sarah looked down at Bharath, then followed his line of sight to where her t-shirt had bunched up, exposing a scandalous amount of thigh. “Oops,” she said with zero remorse, adjusting it without really adjusting anything at all. “Didn’t mean to... scandalize our hero.”

  Bharath turned a darker shade of crimson. “It’s okay. Really. It’s… I wasn’t… I didn’t…”

  “Sweetheart,” Sarah said, ughing, “you’re still recovering from being stabbed. We should really be giving you a break.”

  “Please do,” he muttered, dragging the throw pillow over his p.

  Marisol raised both eyebrows. “Wow. That didn’t take long.”

  Sarah grinned wickedly. “We really did a number on him, huh?”

  “I may have taught him a few things,” Marisol said with a smirk, stretching like a cat—which only made things worse.

  Bharath groaned. “This is harassment.”

  “Oh, honey,” Sarah teased, crawling to the edge of the couch and letting her legs dangle beside him, “you’re not being harassed until one of us sits on your p.”

  “Don’t,” Bharath said instantly, looking up in panic.

  Both girls burst into ughter.

  Sarah leaned sideways into Marisol’s shoulder, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “God, he’s adorable.”

  “Isn’t he?” Marisol agreed, beaming at him. “I tell him every day.”

  “You’re all trying to kill me,” Bharath mumbled, looking at the ceiling. “I got stabbed st night. I cannot emotionally survive being flirted with by two apsaras before breakfast.”

  “What’s an apsara?” asked Marisol quizzically.

  Bharath let out a soft, helpless ugh, still half-sprawled on the couch, one arm flung over his eyes like a man barely clinging to life.

  He turned his head slightly, gaze nding on Marisol and Sarah. “An apsara,” he said, voice low and reverent, “is a celestial being from Indian mythology. Dancers of the gods. So beautiful they made sages lose their minds with their beauty. So graceful the skies would hush just to watch them move.”

  He gave a tired, crooked grin. “They’re temptation, devotion, and art in one body. Basically…” He waved a hand vaguely toward the two of them. “You.”

  Sarah blinked. “Wait, so we’re literally divine sex appeal?”

  “Divine and devastating,” Bharath confirmed. “And way too much for a man recovering from blood loss.”

  Marisol smirked, cheeks warming just a little. “Okay. We’ll take that.” She leaned in closer. “But next time say it with less clothes on.”

  Bharath groaned. “See? Killing me.”

  Sarah pced a hand over her heart. “Apsaras. I like that.”

  Marisol gave her a sidelong gnce. “He called me that st night. I didn’t know it meant something so special!”

  Sarah’s smile widened. “Then he has taste. Obviously.”

  Bharath peeked out from behind the pillow. “You’re both enjoying this.”

  “Deeply,” Marisol confirmed, resting her chin on Sarah’s shoulder now.

  Sarah added, with a mock whisper, “Should we tell him what we were talking about while he was passed out?”

  “Don’t you dare,” Bharath said, holding up one finger.

  Sarah leaned into Marisol, eyes dancing. “He’s so easy.”

  “Right?” Marisol giggled. “Like poking a marshmallow.”

  Bharath let out a strangled sound and flopped backwards onto the floor. “I give up. The universe has turned against me.”

  Sarah stretched again and stood, walking barefoot to the kitchen. “I’m making more tea,” she called out. “Unless you need water dumped on your head first.”

  “I need prayer,” Bharath muttered.

  Marisol blew him a kiss. “You’ll live. Barely.”

  And for a while, ughter repced the trauma. The strange night had turned into an unexpectedly warm morning—full of teasing and affection, vulnerability and trust. They didn’t have to name what was forming between them. It was enough to feel it.

  The morning light had fully arrived now, soft and golden through the thin curtains of Sarah’s apartment. The scent of mint tea still lingered in the air, and the city beyond the windows stirred like a slow heartbeat returning to pace.

  Bharath shifted slightly on the floor, finally letting his body lean back against the couch where the two women rested. He could still feel the ache in his side from the night before. Not just the stitches, but the lingering ghost of fear and adrenaline, the quiet knowledge of how close it had come.

  But when he looked up. At Marisol’s hand gently stroking Sarah’s hair, at her flushed cheeks and soft, sleepy smile, and at Sarah herself, safe and wrapped in warmth instead of terror, he felt something else.

  Peace.

  Whatever happened next, whatever complications, consequences, or chaos waited for them outside this room. It didn’t matter right now.

  Right now, they were safe.

  Together.

  The quiet held them like a promise.

  And for once, Bharath allowed himself to believe in it.

  To believe that sometimes, when the world cracked open... something beautiful could come pouring through.

  “So… are we all cuddling again ter, or do I have to get stabbed too?” Sarah asked sweetly from Marisol’s arms.

  Bharath groaned into the couch.

  Marisol just smiled and said, “Only if you ask nicely.”

  Both girls giggled.

  Marisol gnced at the window where the first full rays of sun were breaking through, then back at Bharath with a small, knowing smile. “Rest while you can, hero. We’ve got a long day ahead… and friends who are going to lose their minds when they hear about this.”