"Too difficult," Aarushi muttered under her breath, slamming the laptop shut dramatically—as if it was the device’s fault she couldn’t understand the bloody difference between a yorker and a full toss.

Shruti, lying upside down on the bed with a sheet mask on her face and her legs resting on the wall like a modern art installation, snorted. “Didn’t you say ‘how difficult could it get?’ Like, exactly two hours ago?”