Chapter 15
KABIR
Kabir dragged the guitar pick across the strings, each note scraping out like it hurt to exist. He clenched the pick between his teeth, eyes fixed on the empty space above the studio door, willing the melody in his veins to make sense.
It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. Nothing made sense anymore.
With a feral sound, he stopped playing. The pick came free, spinning restlessly between his fingers while frustration gnawed at the edges of his control.
“It’s not working,” Ayaan said quietly, his guitar lying limp in his lap.
Kabir’s laugh was a harsh exhale. “Yeah. I know.” He shot to his feet, pacing the cramped studio like a caged animal. His hands tunnelled through his hair, tugging hard, hoping the pain would clear his mind.
Malik lifted the guitar Kabir had abandoned and strummed once, twice, before settling into a melody so painfully beautiful it felt like someone was dragging a blade across Kabir’s ribs. Ayaan joined in, a harmony blooming that was soft, broken, and too close to the truth he refused to touch.
Something in Kabir’s chest shifted, old wounds slicing open to spill blood again.
He shut his eyes. Instant mistake. Instant, terrible mistake.
Because Tani appeared immediately, blazing against the darkness of his eyelids, draped in that bridal lehenga, eyes looking straight into his, the picture of everything he could never have and all he’d ever wanted. The vision hit him like a punch.
Shit.
He knew he should open his eyes, force himself back into the room, back into the noise and the people who weren’t her. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Just one more second. One more second with all he had left of her.
“Kabir.”
Varsha’s voice cracked through the moment, sharp and irritated.
His eyes snapped open, breath catching as Tani shattered into nothing in his mind’s eye.
Varsha stood there, arms crossed, glare sharp enough to cut through blood and bone.
Kabir met her furious gaze and wondered how his life had managed to spiral so spectacularly.
“What?” he muttered, grabbing the nearest drumsticks and tapping out a rhythm that was too loud, too careless, too obviously defensive.
“A moment?” she asked, glancing between his bandmates and him.
“If this is about the publicity stunt,” he flicked a drumstick into the air and caught it without looking, his gaze holding hers, “I’m not doing it again. I said yes once. That’s all you get.”
Once. Once had been enough to wreck him.
He could still see it: the cameras, the supermodel Varsha had dragged in, her hand on his chest, her laugh too loud, too rehearsed. Her lips on his. The sense of wrongness that swamped him when she touched him had been instant and intense.
He’d known Tani would see the photos. He’d wanted her to see them. Let her think he’d moved on. Let her hate him. Maybe hate would protect her in ways his love never could.
They were better this way. They had to be. Her hating him. And him…God, him loving her like it was the only thing he’d ever be good at. Nothing new there. Nothing he could fix. Nothing he could change.
“It’s…”
Varsha’s uncharacteristic hesitation had him glancing up at her. Ahh, this was about the other thing. A cruel sneer traced his lips. “She’s not dead, is she?”
Varsha shook her head.
“Let me guess.” His crooked smile widened. “She’s not even dying.”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Who are we talking about?” Ayaan looked from one tight face to the other. “And why do we look angry about her not dying?”
“No one,” Kabir said, a warning in his gaze as it met Varsha’s. He was about to say more when there was a knock on the door and it opened to reveal his father and sister.
“Are we interrupting?” Ved asked, looking around the room with that calm, genial smile of his.
“Not at all,” Ayaan said grinning at Kimi who was looking around with big, awestruck eyes. “We were just discussing someone who is apparently not dying.”
“Who’s not dying?” Ved’s eyes snapped to Kabir’s, worry darkening them.
“Nobody important.” Kabir said, rising and walking over to hug his father. For a moment, he let the solidity of the man who’d saved him, literally and figuratively, wrap around him, grounding him in the chaos and noise of his life.
Kabir pulled back and looked over to where Kimi was flirting with Ayaan. He sent his friend a death glare over the top of her head and Ayaan immediately pulled back, stonewalling her coy remarks.
“What are you guys doing here?” he asked his father now.
Ved’s thoughtful gaze went from Varsha’s tense face to Kabir’s but he didn’t push it. “We were in town for a little wedding shopping so we thought we’d check on you and see if you could join us for lunch.”
“Did you text me?” Kabir pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Did I miss it?”
“No.” Kimi walked over to where they stood, giving up on Ayaan. “We ambushed you.”
“Kim-“
“No.” She shook her head, her long, highlighted hair flying in an arc around her head. “No excuses. You’ve been avoiding us since the farmhouse weekend. No more. Let’s go.”
Great. An intervention. Exactly what he needed when his brain was already a walk through hell.
“I’ve got practice,” he said, looking to his father for support.
But Ved was looking at him, with a suspiciously contemplative look in his eyes, one that said he saw too much, and understood even more.
Yikes. Kabir couldn’t afford to have his father trying to dig through to the bottom of the mess that was his life.
“Who is coming? For lunch?” he asked instead. If she was coming…
Kimi shrugged. “We sent out a message on the group. We just need to update the restaurant we pick. Whoever turns up, turns up.”
His stomach clenched. Of course they’d sent it on the group. Of course she would’ve seen it.
“You need clothes for the wedding too,” Ved said now.
“Wait!” Horror suffused him. “You said lunch. You didn’t say shopping.”
“What were you planning to wear to the wedding?” Kimi asked, looking up at him with a cheeky grin.
He glanced down at his faded jeans and black vest.
“Nope.” Ved shook his head. “I have to draw the line at that.”
“I’m a bit too old for you to be ‘drawing the line’ Dad.” Kabir groaned.
“You think?” Ved arched a brow. “You’ll be my son when you’re old and grey. And no Kashyap is turning up at a family wedding dressed like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.”
The words sent warmth through the bitter chill of his heart. No Kashyap…The casual words meant more than anything in this world.
“Well then,” he slung an arm over Kimi’s shoulder. “I guess we’re going shopping. But can we have lunch first?”
“Chinese!” she squealed.
“No.” He rubbed his knuckles on the top of her head, destroying her carefully styled hair. “I want Indian food please. I’m done with all other cuisines for a while.”
“Bah!” Kimi dug her elbow into his gut and freed herself from his clutches. “You’re as bad as Tani. The two of you are so boring.”
Boring. His heart stuttered painfully.
He wished he could be as boring as Tani. As good. As steady.
Instead, he was just…bad. The bad choice. The one who’d broken her heart. And his own, right along with it.