I went back to the table, feeling the strange ache that had been gnawing at me start to ease, slow and sure, until it was barely a memory. I sank into my seat, insisting to everyone around me that I was fine. They nodded understandingly, tossed out quick, reassuring smiles, and fell back into their conversations. My body did the same thing-nodding along with the cadence of the moment-but my mind was miles away from this restaurant and its din.
All I could think about was my reflection—my eyes, and Sahasra's eyes. Why did they look like that? Why did hers seem so different from mine, yet somehow linked to mine in a way I couldn't quite grasp? But one thing was certain : this was exactly what my brother had been trying to tell me when he said, "Wait till the time has come." Of course, at the time, it sounded cryptic, perhaps almost melodramatic. But now? Now it was terrifyingly real.
He meant the eyes.
And if the time finally had arrived, then every warning he ever gave me about what could happen was no longer a distant possibility. It was here, standing at our doorstep.
A sudden heavy weight settled in my stomach as that realization washed over me-we didn't have much time left, whatever that might mean.
My phone was in my hand before I could overthink it. I typed four simple words to Sahasra: "The time has come." To say it out loud would have called our parents' attention, and the last thing I wanted was to cause worry-or worse, to trigger another cover-up of whatever they'd been hiding from us. Because I was certain now. They knew more. They always had.
The read receipt came on in a flash. Sahasra turned her head, eyes a mix of brown and gold, sharp, focused, almost ablaze with determination, from across the table. She knew exactly what I was going to do.
In one silent accord, without a word uttered between us, we chimed in unison with the same call: "We have an assignment to finish." Something in the way it came out sounded almost mechanical and choreographed; it no longer surprised me. They looked at us with a flicker of disappointment in their eyes, then nodded in agreement that schoolwork had to come first. They let us be with little interrogation, only adding fuel to my growing suspicion.
We exited the restaurant with purpose, our actions swift but controlled. We reached the car and I opened the door, and we slid inside. I cranked the engine, and as the car doors swung shut, the air inside shifted: tense, heavy, expectant. We went home in a straight line, not a word exchanged between us, until we could face what lay inside those boxes.
The car rolled to a stop as I pulled into my driveway, my heart hammering. Turning off the engine, Sahasra's gaze settled on me. Our eyes met-gold with shimmering silver-red-an exchange that sent a hard swallow up my throat.
"Meet me back in the car," I whispered. "Bring your watch box."
She gave a single nod and darted toward her house. I hurried into mine, racing to my brother's room, the urgency fearfully tangible. I found the watch box exactly where he'd said it would be, hidden away just in case something happened. A chill ran through me as I lifted it, the familiar weight of secrets pressing against my ribs.
Within minutes, I was back in my own car. Sahasra appeared in a sprint across the yard, clutching her own box to her chest as she reached the passenger seat, already panting from the adrenaline and haste.
"Okay," she breathed, lifting the box. "I got mine."
"Let's open it," I said, trying to sound calmer than I was. We raised the lids in unison. Inside mine was a beautiful gold watch, its face framed in gold with bold red accents, glowing softly in the dim light. Sahasra's watch resembled mine closely-metallic silver with red highlights-almost twins in design. Beside each watch lay a smooth, metallic disc, and tucked beneath them was a folded note, neatly waiting to be unfolded and read.