He cared about Samarth's rules, and Samarth had never explicitly forbidden him from being here.
Nimisha stepped off the treadmill and grabbed her water bottle, sinking onto the nearby bench. Her muscles trembled from exertion.
Bruno approached slowly, his massive paws silent on the rubber floor. He sat in front of her, close enough to touch but not demanding it.
"Rough morning?" she asked, reaching out to scratch behind his ears.
Bruno leaned into the touch with something that might have been a sigh.
They sat like that for several minutes—woman and dog, both trapped in lives they hadn't chosen, finding comfort in the only companionship available.
"You know, Boo," Nimisha said softly, "you're the only male in this house who doesn't look at me like I'm a mistake."
Bruno's eyes met hers, and she could have sworn she saw understanding there.
"Although I suppose you don't have much choice. You're stuck with me by proxy." She smiled sadly. "We're both prisoners of circumstance."
A sound from the hallway made Bruno's head snap up, ears alert.
Footsteps.
Bruno stood immediately, moving away from her with military precision. By the time the door opened, he was positioned near the wall, the perfect picture of a guard dog on duty.
Kritika appeared in the doorway, looking fresh and lovely in a pale pink kurta.
"Oh! Nimisha, I didn't know you'd be here." Her smile was bright, friendly, utterly believable.
"I work out every morning," Nimisha said, grabbing her towel.
"That explains the figure." Kritika laughed. "I keep meaning to start a routine, but I never have the discipline."
"Discipline comes with practice."
"I suppose." Kritika's gaze drifted to Bruno. "Hello, boy. Remember me?"
She extended her hand toward the dog.
Bruno stared at her hand like it was a snake, didn't move a muscle.
"Bruno," Kritika coaxed. "Come on, sweetie. I brought you treats. They're in the kitchen."
The dog's expression—if dogs could have expressions—suggested he'd rather eat glass.
Kritika laughed nervously. "He's never warmed up to me. I've been trying for years."
"Maybe he's particular about who he likes," Nimisha said, wiping sweat from her neck.
"Maybe." Kritika's eyes held a flash of something—annoyance? Jealousy?—before the sweet smile returned. "Anyway, I came to find you. Maa wants to go over the prayer room reorganization. She sent me to fetch you."
Of course she did.
"I need to shower first."
"That's fine. I'll wait."
Nimisha grabbed her water bottle and phone. As she passed Bruno, their eyes met for the briefest moment.
Stay strong, his ancient gaze seemed to say.
