Ashwin blinked at him. Speechless.

Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. Ruban fidgeted under the unreadable silver gaze, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine. Perhaps he’d been too blunt; said more than he should have.

But he hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. It needed saying. He couldn’t just stand back and watch Ashwin blame himself for every evil under the sun. Or the moon, for that matter.

Ruban himself had a long and storied history of blaming Ashwin for all manner of things, both within and beyond his control. He didn't need the Aeriel encroaching on his territory.

Eventually, a smile flickered into existence; a hesitant sunbeam breaking through the storm clouds. “I, uh—thank you, Ruban.” Ashwin’s voice was barely above a whisper. “That-that was oddly helpful.”

Ruban let out a breath, the rigid set of his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I-I didn’t know.” He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “I knew what he did. Janak Nath. I’d researched him extensively, even before you were taken. I knew his…modus operandi. But even with all the theoretical knowledge in the world, I couldn’t have imagined the true, horrific extent of it—”

“And I’d have liked to keep it that way,” Ashwin muttered darkly. “Much as your human doctors might disagree, not everything warrants sharing. Some things are best buried deep and left to rot in darkness. Not that I don’t appreciate this heart-to-heart.” He held up a hand. “Because I do. It’s just that I’d rather be doing literally anything else, right now.”

“Well, I daresay there are healthier ways of coping with trauma. Even for you feathery bastards. But what do I know?” A corner of Ruban’s mouth quirked upwards. “I won’t be the pot calling your princely kettle black. You could well be right on the mark. If we can’t get you therapy, getting you started on dinner might be the next best thing.”

“You haven’t had dinner yet?”

“You think I could force food down my gullet after watching that video?” Ruban grunted. “I haven’t had a morsel since breakfast.”

Ashwin beamed at him. “Now that, for a change, is a problem I can fix.”

The two of them exited the roof and went down to the flat. Half an hour later, they were both digging into steaming bowls of fragrant, golden khichdi. Savoring the comforting blend of fluffy rice and soft lentils, delicately spiced with turmeric and cumin.

Ruban was grateful for the simple meal. After the nerve-wracking day he’d had, he wasn’t sure his stomach could handle anything more complex.

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He devoured half his bowl within minutes, before walking over to the fridge. Ruban pulled out a plate of golden-brown malpua – soft, pillowy discs with crunchy edges, generously sprinkled with crushed nuts. The enticing aroma of roasted cardamom filled the air.

Like a sunflower seeking the sun, Ashwin swiveled towards the source of the scent. Wide, silver eyes gazed adoringly at the plate of syrupy malpuas. “Is that—” he swallowed. “Did you—”

“Simani made dessert.” Ruban hummed with contentment as he set the plate down on the table. “Savor it well, because miracles are rare. The last time she put this much effort into a recipe was to impress Vik’s mom. Back when he first brought her home to meet the parents.”

It was true. Simani had been worried sick about Ashwin all day. Neither Ruban nor Vikram could bring themselves to watch the whole video, but she had.

Ruban had never seen his partner so fidgety and anxious. If anything, she’d been more anxious today than those desperate days they’d spent searching for Ashwin last year, when he was captured by the Qawirsin.

Perhaps because back then, they’d had something to focus on. They were up against a man, Janak Nath. And their goal was clear: find Ashwin and get him back. It had been terrifying, yes, but at least they could understand the scope of the problem, could visualize a solution.

That was not the case, this time around. There enemy wasn’t a single man, or even a single entity. A person could be fought and killed; an organization dismantled. But how did you fight the amorphous masses, the swirling tides of public opinion? How did you vanquish the sting of a world watching and judging from afar, while your own hands were tied behind your back?

Perhaps that’s why Simani was trying to soothe Ashwin’s wounds, and her own, with dessert.

Soon, they’d polished off the khichdi and divided the malpuas between them.

Ashwin held one of the delicate discs of fried dough in both hands. He took a single, deliberate bite. Savoring it as instructed. “It’s delicious,” he murmured after a few seconds of silent chewing, a hint of surprise in his voice. “We should save some for Hiya.”

Ruban responded with an indulgent shake of his head. “There’s plenty more where these came from. I’d wager a month’s salary she gorged herself silly on malpuas at dinner, along with Sri. I feel for Vik and Simani, stuck babysitting the little sugar fiends. Those two never get up to any good when they’re together.”

Ashwin chuckled, and Ruban felt a weight lift from his heart. The Aeriel still held himself stiffly, silver eyes flickering with restless worry. Ruban empathized. The coming days loomed large, heavy with the potential fallout of the video. How would the media and the public react?

The initial coverage had been a blur of shock and disbelief, followed by frenzied attempts to verify the authenticity of the footage.

But this was merely the lull before the storm. It couldn’t last. Ashwin knew it too. That was part of what he was afraid of, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Ruban knew him well enough to foresee that Ashwin would blame himself if the leaked video derailed the alliance negotiations. Or worse, caused them to collapse entirely. Just thinking about it made his blood boil.

But wasn’t that what Dhriti Pathak was counting on? She’d go to any lengths to steer public opinion in that direction.

To counter her, they too had to be proactive. Simply hoping for the best wouldn’t work. They needed a strategy to combat whatever she threw their way; to make sure they wouldn’t be caught off guard again.