- AUTHOR'S POV -

“I’m not sure if I can, Krittika…” Chaya’s soft, hesitant voice carried through the phone as she paced slowly across her room, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her dupatta before she realized she wasn’t even wearing one. Old habits. Old versions of herself. “Why not?” Krittika’s voice came instantly, sharp yet playful. “Don’t tell me you’re going to say no again. Chaya, it’s just a club, not a battlefield.”