Chapter 33
KABIR
There was a storm brewing in his head, a dark, sucking void opening up inside him, widening with every step he took, threatening to swallow him whole. His breath couldn’t keep up. His thoughts couldn’t string themselves together.
Pressure crushed his chest as he marched through the grand hallways of Il Cuore, the marble floors blurring beneath him. Chandeliers glittered overhead, mocking him with their calm brilliance while his world caved in on itself.
He needed to escape. He needed to get away from the voices, away from the truth, away from what he’d heard, away from what he had to live with now.
He’d failed her.
The words beat at his skull, relentless and brutal. He’d fucking failed her.
He should have insisted she get checked. He should have done more. He should have protected her. He should have killed that bastard before he ever had the chance to-
“Kabir!”
Ved’s voice snapped across the space, sharp as a whip.
Kabir flinched, shoulders hunching instinctively like he’d been struck.
He shoved the front doors open with a force that rattled the hinges, stumbling into the crisp sunlight.
The brightness hit him like a slap, too clean, too sharp, too much for the darkness tearing him up inside.
He sucked in air. It didn’t help.
“Hold on.” Ved’s hand landed gently on his shoulder. Kabir spun, shoving his father’s hand away like it burned.
“Don’t,” he bit out, voice cracking on the edges. His chest was a vise. His heart was a ticking grenade. He was one word away from exploding and taking everyone in the vicinity with him. “Don’t,’ he said again. “Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Ved said softly.
The gentleness in the words nearly destroyed him. Because Kabir knew exactly what that meant. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t going to be okay. And for the first time since he’d known the man, his father wasn’t pretending otherwise.
“I failed her,” Kabir said, his voice cracking.
“How do you figure?” Ved’s voice held no anger or judgment. He just watched Kabir, patiently.
Kabir shut his eyes, giving up, and the memories swallowed him whole. They swam through him like quicksand, dragging him under, pulling him back into the one moment he’d been trying to outrun ever since it happened.
Her kiss. God! Her kiss.
Soft at first, then fierce, then reckless, like she’d finally stopped fighting the truth they’d both been bleeding from.
Her mouth on his had felt like fire and forgiveness and home all at once, scorching through every wall he’d built, every lie he’d told himself, every reason he’d used to stay away.
Her fire. It had both warmed and burned him.
He could still feel it, the heat of her fury, her desperation, the way she’d grabbed him like she was furious at him and terrified for him and in love with him all at the same time.
She wasn’t delicate. She wasn’t hesitant.
She loved like she lived, completely or not at all.
He could still feel the tremble in her fingers as they slid into his hair, pulling him closer, pulling him into a world where he was wanted, where he was chosen, where he was loved.
She kissed him like she was done pretending she didn’t want him, like she was done pretending she could live a life in which he didn’t exist.
And then her palm pressed over his heart.
Right over the frantic, terrified beats slamming against his ribs. Her hand had settled there gently, steadying him, grounding him, claiming him without saying a word. Her thumb had stroked once, a soft, trembling reassurance that he didn’t deserve.
He remembered the exact moment her breathing hitched, the way her eyelashes fluttered as she lifted her face. He remembered the way her lips parted, the quiver in her voice as she said his name like she was pleading.
And then her voice was in his head, soft, shaking, terrified and brave all at once.
I love you, Kabir.
Three small words with his name tacked on. So small yet so powerful. They shimmered inside him like something holy and ruinous. Something he’d wanted for so long it felt like blasphemy to finally hear it. Something he’d been starved for and terrified of in equal measure.
He remembered the warmth of her breath on his skin. The hope in her eyes. The absolute, devastating trust in her voice.
He remembered wanting to say it back, wanting to fall to his knees and worship her, wanting to drag her against him and never let go. He remembered all of it. And he remembered what he did instead.
He’d walked away from her. He’d broken her heart. And he did it with cruelty and finesse. He’d killed her dream with the weight of his silence.
And that memory, that moment, was the one that haunted him most. Not because she’d loved him. But because he had loved her too and he had still fucking left.
“Kabir.” Ved’s voice drew him back to the present.
He opened his eyes, letting his misery envelop him. “I broke her heart. I ghosted her. I stopped taking her calls, responding to her messages…I shoved her out of my life and I didn’t let her back in. I’m the reason she allowed that bastard into her life. I’m the one who set the stage for this.”
Silence met his confession. Bile rose in his throat, his heart practically beating out of his chest as he met his father’s gaze. In them, all he saw was compassion. And he knew that if he stayed, he’d break. And he couldn’t afford to break.
“I have to go,” he said. “I can’t be here.”
“You should,” another voice answered him. Kabir looked over his father’s shoulder to see Karam standing in the doorway.
“Take some time for yourself,” Karam said. “You need it.” His hard gaze softened as he took in Kabir’s wrecked expression and he said the words that would get Kabir moving, “And so does she.”
Kabir nodded, taking a stumbling step back from them. “If there is any blowback from Jay, I’ll deal with it.”
“No,” Karam said. “We’ll take care of that. You take care of yourself.”
Kabir made it to the car before he stopped, turning to meet Karam’s eyes. “Everything I did, I did because…I don’t deserve her. She deserves better. She deserves everything.”
“She does,” Karam nodded, his matter of fact words sliding a dagger through Kabir’s already bleeding heart. “But I didn’t deserve her mother either,” he added, with a small smile. “And yet, here we are.”
He walked over to where Kabir stood and hauled him in for a hard hug.
“Let me tell you a secret, son,” he murmured.
“Those women do deserve better. But the lucky bastards that we are, they choose us anyway.” He thumped Kabir on the back once, hard enough to almost topple him.
“Thank you for looking out for her. I will always owe you for that. And as for that snivelling bastard, you leave him to us.”
“I’m not sure you should be driving,” Ved said now, coming over to take the keys from his trembling fingers. “I’ll take you back. Let’s go.”
Kabir slid into the car, the door shutting with a heavy thud that echoed through his bones.
His gaze lifted to the rearview mirror. There, small and distant, framed perfectly by the glass, stood the front door of Il Cuore.
The house that held his heart. The first place he’d set eyes on her.
It held their lives. Their laughter. Their memories. Their ghosts.
The world outside the car blurred, but he kept staring, his eyes locked on that doorway as if sheer will could rewind time, undo the last hour, unhear the truth that had hollowed him out.
Then the car began to roll forward, slow and steady, pulling him away from everything he’d ever wanted and everything he’d never deserved. He watched until Il Cuore disappeared completely from view.
Only then did the strength leave him.
Kabir exhaled a broken breath, closed his eyes, and let the world go dark around the edges. His chest ached with a heaviness that felt bone-deep, a weight pressing down so relentlessly his ribs strained to contain it.
He let it all fade, the pain, the fear, the fury, the memories of her voice in his ear, her hand over his heart, her kiss still burning on his mouth. He let it fade because he had nothing left to fight with. He leaned his head back against the seat, breath shallow, eyes closed.
He couldn’t take in anything more, his mind and heart caving under the pressure. So he didn’t. He let go. For the first time in years, Kabir simply… stopped.
He’d failed. He was done.