Arjun grinned at his laptop. Another challenge from her had just arrived:
MoonInk:Write a short story where the hero saves dinner instead of the world.
He laughed out loud. Only she could come up with a challenge so perfect—and so relatable.
IronQuill:Fine. But if he burns the rice again, it's your fault.
Almost instantly, her reply popped up:
MoonInk:Burns rice? You? Please. You can barely make tea.
Arjun rolled his eyes, though he couldn't stop smiling. It was true—cooking was not his strongest skill. His "expertise" extended only to rice, basic tea, and his love for chicken. But he had no shame in admitting it.
IronQuill:I like chicken. That's all you need to know.
MoonInk:Ha! And I'm a vegetarian trying to cook chicken for my family for the second time. How's that for courage?
Arjun paused, surprised. He hadn't expected her to actually attempt it again. His mind immediately pictured her in the kitchen, carefully experimenting, concentrating hard, maybe even frustrated. A strange warmth spread through him.
IronQuill:Wait… you actually tried again?
MoonInk:Yep. And it was a disaster. But at least my family pretended it wasn't.
He laughed, genuinely this time. Her honesty, the way she shared even a small failure without embarrassment, made her feel so real, so close, even though they'd never met.
IronQuill:You know… I could have helped.
MoonInk:Through text? You think I'd take cooking tips from someone who can only boil rice and tea?
IronQuill:Hey, I have a strategy. Maybe it's not perfect, but it works.
They spent the next half hour joking, teasing, and trading "tips" as if they were in the same kitchen. Every message carried a little spark—playful, but undeniably charged with something more.
Arjun caught himself smiling far too often at his screen, realizing: he looked forward to these moments more than anything else in his day. And though neither of them admitted it, their rivalry was slowly becoming something more. Something softer, something personal.
Even their arguments about stories or meals weren't just games anymore. They were small threads weaving a connection neither had expected but both were starting to cherish.
And somewhere deep down, Arjun knew: the more they teased, challenged, and argued, the closer they were getting.
This was no longer just a story about writing or cooking. It was quietly becoming a story about them.