Marisol linked her arm through Mia’s the moment they stepped through the door.

  “Come on,” she grinned. “Let’s get you changed before you turn into an icicle. I’ve got something you can borrow.”

  Mia ughed. “Is it going to be one of your ancient high school sweatshirts?”

  “It’s clean,” Marisol teased. “And it's got soul.”

  They disappeared into the back bedroom, giggling as they passed down a narrow hallway that smelled faintly of vender and undry detergent.

  Inside the bedroom, the mp on the nightstand cast a warm halo over the room. The bed was unmade-pillow dents and bnkets tossed in a way that hinted at a life being lived in full.

  Mia sat on the edge of it and pulled off her boots while Marisol rummaged through a drawer.

  “You’ve been living here a while?” Mia asked.

  “Mostly. The dorm gets… tricky.” Marisol straightened with a triumphant noise and tossed Mia a t-shirt two sizes too big. “I bounce back and forth. But here, we can actually cook, be loud, stay up te. It’s more ‘us.’”

  Mia raised a brow. “Who’s ‘us,’ exactly?”

  “Me, Bharath… and Sarah. And whoever else crashes here depending on the night.”

  “Mm.” Mia pulled the hoodie over her head and caught a whiff of fabric softener and something warm and spicy underneath. She didn’t comment on it.

  They both changed into pajama bottoms-Mia in comfy cotton bottoms and Marisol in fnnel-and curled up for a moment on the bed, giggling like they used to during summer nights when their mom thought they were asleep.

  “I didn’t realize how much I missed this,” Mia said quietly.

  Marisol looked over at her sister. “Me either.”

  It surprised them both, how easy this felt. How all the distance of the past few months, the unspoken tension of growing up and apart, seemed to melt in the comfort of soft clothes and the hum of sisterhood.

  Then, Marisol stood and held out a hand. “Let’s go make fun of whatever movie Bharath hates the most.”

  Back in the living room, Sarah had changed into a matching navy-blue pajama set, her silky hair now let down in soft waves. She looked like she’d stepped out of a vintage sleepwear catalog-only real, and stupidly, unfairly pretty. Like someone Mia might’ve hated in high school… if she weren’t smiling like that.

  Bharath was already seated cross-legged on the couch, wearing an old faded t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked so rexed, like the day hadn’t touched him at all.

  The coffee table had been cleared to make space for a bowl of pretzels, and a bottle of Coke.

  “You ready?” Sarah asked, holding up two VHS tapes. “We’ve narrowed it down.”

  “We? I wanted to watch Die Hard or Terminator 2,” muttered Bharath sadly.

  “Hush you. Choice one,” Marisol said, dramatically presenting Ever After like it was a holy artifact. “Or choice two…” she gestured to Sarah, who raised the second option.

  Practical Magic.

  Mia gasped. “Wait. These are both amazing.”

  Bharath groaned softly. “I’m outnumbered, aren’t I? Can’t we watch a fun movie like Starship Troopers or something? Denise Richards is hot in that one.”

  Sarah tossed a pillow at him. “You don’t get a vote. You get cuddles.”

  Marisol winked. “And maybe foot rubs if you’re good.”

  Mia giggled and plopped into a comfy armchair. “Let’s go with Practical Magic. It’s weird and witchy and everyone looks great in the moonlight.”

  Sarah popped the tape into the VCR while Marisol dimmed the lights.

  Bharath stretched out and shifted so he sat in the middle of the couch, and as if it were choreographed, Marisol and Sarah fnked him on either side-legs tucked under, arms draped casually across his middle. Marisol’s head nestled into his shoulder while Sarah’s arm slid around his waist like it belonged there.

  Mia blinked.

  Something in her stomach tightened-so quickly, she almost didn’t notice it.

  She’d expected to see Marisol cuddle Bharath. That made sense. But Sarah? It wasn’t just the way Sarah curled into him - it was how Bharath’s fingers found her spine like muscle memory. No hesitation. No boundaries. Like she’d always belonged there. The way her body curved toward him, the way his hand casually found the small of her back-it was too familiar. Too natural.

  I wish that were me, Mia thought before she could stop herself.

  The thought hit like a spark-hot, immediate, and irrational.

  She looked away, cheeks flushing. God, what’s wrong with me? He’s my sister’s boyfriend.

  And yet… she couldn’t ignore the way Sarah looked at him. Like he was hers, too.

  But thirty minutes into the movie, she realized something was… off. Somewhere between the midnight margaritas and Sandra Bullock’s spellwork, Mia’s brain began to itch.

  They weren’t just close. They were close.

  Marisol had curled her hand around Bharath’s wrist. Sarah had her head resting just below his jaw, fingers absentmindedly tracing his chest. Bharath hadn’t moved-he was not even watching the movie. He had his eyes closed with an expression that could almost be described as peaceful-but his arms were comfortably around both girls, one hand stroking Marisol’s hair, the other resting low on Sarah’s back.

  Mia’s gaze darted between them. Marisol. Bharath. Sarah.

  Their faces were calm. This wasn’t awkward for them. They weren’t trying to hide it. Because to them, this wasn’t a secret. It was life.

  Mia’s eyes widened.

  “Wait,” she blurted. “What is happening?”

  The room went still.

  Sarah paused the VCR without a word.

  Marisol looked up, blinking, as if pulled from a nap.

  Bharath turned his head slowly. “Mia-”

  “No, seriously,” Mia said, sitting up straighter. “What is this? Why are both of you-” she pointed at Marisol and Sarah, “-wrapped around him like he’s your personal space heater?”

  Marisol smiled faintly. “Well, he is.”

  Sarah added gently, “He runs hot.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  A silence settled over them. It wasn’t tense-yet. But it was weighty.

  Mia’s heart pounded. Her mind was racing. And yet, what surprised her most was that she didn’t feel… angry. Not exactly. More stunned. Disoriented.

  Marisol shifted to sit upright beside Bharath, her eyes searching her sister’s. “We were going to expin. But we wanted you to see it first.”

  “See what?” Mia said slowly.

  Bharath met her gaze. His voice was calm. “That what we have… isn’t typical.”

  Mia looked at Sarah, who was watching her with quiet kindness. Then at Marisol, whose fingers were still brushing against Bharath’s thigh like it was second nature.

  Something cold and warm and confused swirled in Mia’s chest.

  “You’re… all together?” she said finally. “Like… you and him and her? ”

  No one corrected her.

  “Oh my God! Since when?” Mia asked, her voice sharper than she meant. “How long has this been going on?”

  “We felt something for Sarah the night we met her. But officially, we have been together for a few weeks now,” said Bharath with gravity. “We knew we had something for each other the moment we met. We are soulmates.”

  “Soul-what?”

  “Mia,” Marisol began, “we didn’t want to keep you in the dark. But it’s a lot to take in. That’s why tonight-”

  “You wanted me to see it for myself,” Mia finished. “So it wouldn’t sound insane when you expined.”

  Sarah nodded. “Exactly.”

  Mia looked at Bharath again, and he was watching her-not apologetic, not defensive, just open. Steady.

  She didn’t know what she expected to feel.

  Jealousy? Maybe.

  Shock? Definitely.

  But mostly… she felt like she was standing at the edge of a pool. The water was unfamiliar, shimmering in the dark, and everyone else was already inside-smiling, arms open, beckoning her in.

  And for some reason…

  She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to walk away.

  The room was too quiet.

  The kind of quiet that didn’t feel calm, but loaded-the air thick with the weight of something unspoken, something seismic.

  Mia sat still, spine straight, arms folded tightly across her chest as if bracing for a gust of wind. Her legs were curled under her, but she didn’t feel small. She felt compressed. Like she was trying to hold in everything that had just broken loose in her chest.

  Her question-You’re all together?-still echoed in her ears.

  And here they were - bundled together - looking unrepentant right in front of her when she had asked them the question. Bharath even said that they were soulmates! It sounded ludicrous.

  But it hadn’t been followed by awkward ughter or stammering. There were no excuses or crifications. Just a shared gnce between Marisol and Sarah. Just Bharath’s maddening silence, as if he knew that no words would change the truth anyway.

  They were all together. Her gorgeous sister. This stunning woman. And him.