The afternoon sky over mumbai hung heavy and humid, the kind that pressed on your skin like wet cotton. The Defender sat outside in the parking lot, still speckled with mud from Spandana's morning drive. She had tossed the keys onto the table the second she walked in, peeled off her boots, and let herself collapse into the sofa like a soldier finally allowed to rest after a week-long mission.
The AC hummed lazily. The faint smell of petrol still clung to her from earlier. Her phone buzzed once a message from someone she had no interest in replying to and then the apartment sank into stillness.
Her head throbbed from the constant buzz of people, noise, and opinions over the past week. The suspension was still fresh, the psychiatrist's notes probably still wet with ink. She'd been holding it together, more or less, but she could feel the cracks creeping in.
She tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and exhaled.
BANG!
The sound was so sudden it jolted her upright. That wasn't a polite knock or a "hello." That was the kind of slam that made hinges cry out for help. Before her brain could switch from exhaustion to alertness, she was hit with a full-force tackle.
"SPANSSSSS!"
The impact knocked the air out of her lungs. She found herself half-crushed under a laughing, screaming whirlwind of perfume, bangles, and impossible energy.
"Pallavi—! Get—off—me—"
"Nope!" Pallavi hugged her tighter. "You're stuck. It's been months since I've seen you and I am making up for every hug you didn't give me. Deal with it."
Spandana groaned, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. "God, you're here?."
"of course!," Pallavi said grinning as she finally released her. "Also, I brought you something."
That's when Spandana noticed the movement a small wriggling lump in Pallavi's arms.
"What is that?"
"Your new partner in crime," Pallavi announced proudly, holding him up like a trophy. "Meet Ranger. Eight weeks old. German Shepherd. The only man I trust with you."
The puppy blinked up at Spandana, yawned, and promptly licked her chin.
Spandana stared for two seconds, then her expression softened in a way she didn't like to admit was possible. "You… brought me a dog?"
"A puppy," Pallavi corrected, "because a dog would be too responsible and you'd yell at me. Puppies are chaos. You're chaos. It's a match made in heaven."
Ranger's tiny tail wagged furiously, as if agreeing.
"He's… actually cute," Spandana admitted reluctantly.
"I know," Pallavi said smugly, setting the pup down. Ranger immediately began sniffing the carpet, tripping over his own ears.
Spandana reached down to scoop him up again, but Ranger darted away — straight to her boots by the door — and started chewing on the lace.
"Oh no you don't—" She got up, but Pallavi intercepted her with a hand on her arm.
"Let him. It builds character."
"It'll destroy the lace."
"Exactly. Character."
Spandana rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"And you love me," Pallavi replied without missing a beat. She walked straight to the kitchen, tossing her bag onto a chair. "Now, where are your knives? I'm cooking."
Spandana frowned. "Cooking? Since when do you—"
"Since I decided you look like you've been living off instant noodles and rage."
"…Maybe," Spandana admitted.
The kitchen quickly became a battlefield. Pallavi moved like she owned the space, pulling out spices with confident flicks, setting a pan to heat, and scolding Spandana for chopping onions too slowly. Ranger kept running between them, barking at the sound of sizzling oil, and at one point tried to climb onto Pallavi's slippered foot.
"You're not stirring it, you're assaulting it," Pallavi said, eyeing Spandana's attempt at mixing the chicken masala.
"I'm suspended from duty, not from stirring," Spandana shot back. "It's fine."
"It's not fine. Give me that spatula before you commit another crime."
Dinner was a chaotic symphony — sizzling pans, teasing insults, and bursts of laughter that shook the walls. Ranger parked himself near Spandana's feet, occasionally nudging her calf for attention.
By the time they carried the plates to the couch, the smell of Pallavi's chicken fry filled the apartment. They ate cross-legged, the TV playing some random movie neither of them paid attention to.
Halfway through, Pallavi paused, setting her plate down. "Highway run?"
Spandana raised an eyebrow. "With a puppy?"
"He'll love it. Dogs are born for adventure."
Ten minutes later, the Defender was purring on the road, Chennai's city lights shrinking behind them. Pallavi sat shotgun, Ranger curled in her lap like a warm ball of fur. The wind tangled their hair, the speakers played old film songs, and Pallavi roasted slow drivers with casual brutality.
"Uncle, that gearshift is older than me!""Bhaiyya, use your horn like a human, not a mosquito!"
Spandana laughed harder than she had in weeks, her hands steady on the wheel, the night stretching ahead like freedom itself.
For the first time in days, she didn't feel suspended, or evaluated, or under a microscope. She just felt… home.