Chapter 1
ONE
Advik
THREE YEARS AGO (CONTINUED)
Behench—
My head is splitting in half. I crack one eye open and spend a full minute watching the ceiling fan spin like it’s mocking me.
Bed’s empty.
No Gree.
Shit. Did she not stay over?
I groan and drag myself to the bathroom. Splash water on my face. Brush my teeth like it’ll somehow erase the fog in my brain—and the bad decisions I probably made last night.
Why the hell did I drink so much?
I should’ve made Vikram play babysitter. Gree doesn’t even drink. She must’ve dragged my sorry ass home.
Ugh. Fuck.
I step out of the bedroom—and freeze.
She’s here. I sigh in relief.
She’s on the couch. Staring at my laptop like it insulted her entire bloodline.
“Baby...” I try a sheepish smile. “Shit. I drank too much, huh?”
Nothing. Not even a glance.
Okay... weird. I shuffle closer, about to lean in and kiss her good morning—
But she lifts her hand, palm out, stopping me like a bouncer at a club.
“Not now. You want coffee?” Her voice is... ice. Flat. Unfamiliar.
“I—uh—brushed my teeth, I swear.”
She stands up abruptly and walks into the kitchen, leaving behind a perfectly folded throw blanket and a pillow on the couch.
Wait.
She slept out here?
“Gree?” I follow her in, brow furrowed. “Did you... sleep on the couch?”
“Yep,” she says, casual as hell while slotting a pod into the coffee machine. “You want milk?”
Milk? My brain short-circuits.
She knows I don’t drink my coffee with milk. She’s made it for me a hundred times.
“No...” I say slowly.
Something’s off. Off in a way my hungover brain can’t decode fast enough.
We sit on the couch again—me on one side, her on the other, like strangers.
Silence. Thick and stifling.
I feel like I did something. Something bad. But the coward in me is too scared to ask.
Then she speaks.
“So...” Her tone is calm. Too calm. “About what you said last night. Do you remember any of it?”
My mug halts halfway to my lips. I blink. Shake my head.
“What—did I say something dumb? I’m sorry—”
Her hand flies up again. No touch. Not even a brush. She’s been avoiding contact since I woke up. That’s when the dread starts crawling in.
“Baby—”
She clears her throat, still not looking at me.
“You said you were sad. That you didn’t get to kiss Aarohi goodbye. Because you couldn’t do it in front of me. Since I’d be pissed.”
My stomach plummets.
Oh fuck no.
I said that?
No, I couldn’t have.
I swallow hard. “I...”
“Oh and apparently my kisses are perrrfect,” she says in that same detached, robotic voice. No inflection. No warmth. Just... vacancy.
“But I guess you don’t really have the means to compare, do you?”
I set the coffee down, suddenly nauseous. “Gree, I—”
“Greesha,” she says, slicing through my words with a cold smile. “Say it. Gree...sha.”
Panic builds fast, thick and tight in my chest.
How the hell did I manage to screw this up?
Why did I even say that? Why would I voice something so pointless and stupid?
Yeah, sure, there was tension with Aarohi once. Years ago. On and off. But I never acted on it. Never planned to.
We were never single at the same time, and besides—last night wasn’t about that.
It was just a goodbye. A dumb, overly emotional, alcohol-soaked goodbye.
But to say something like that? To Greesha? My girlfriend of nearly a year and a half?
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
She looks at me like I’m a stranger. Like I’m some stranger who disappointed her for the last time.
I panic. Jump to my feet. Kneel in front of her.
My hands reach for her knees—
And she looks at them like they’re filth. Like I’m filth.
I flinch back.
“Baby, I... I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t—I don’t want her. I swear. I was drunk. I—fuck—please...”
Still nothing. Just those hollow eyes, watching me like I’ve already disappeared.
“You once told me,” she says softly, “that your past relationships ended because they got jealous over stupid things. Was Rohi the ‘stupid thing’ in those, too?”
My jaw slackens.
Because... yeah.
She usually was.
I’d hang out with Vikram and Ishika, and Rohi would be there.
“Did you know,” Greesha continues, “you look at her more than anyone else in a group setting? Even more than your own girlfriend.”
I have no answer. Because that sounds somewhat true. And I don’t know why.
I never felt the kind of pull to Rohi that I feel for Gree. Not even close.
So then why the hell was I always watching Rohi? Was it because she was leaving?
“Bab—”
“I’ll tell you why,” she interrupts, with another one of those soul-cracking smiles.
And my stomach turns.
“Because she’s the one you want. The one you’ve always wanted. She holds your attention—and your heart—in a way you haven’t let anyone else touch. Not your exes. Not even me.”
I shake my head, hard, denial ready. “That’s not—”
“You know I’m not even mad. I’m sad, yeah. But not mad. Because I saw it. The signs were small, subtle—but I saw them. You’ll always want her, Advik. Maybe not out loud. Maybe not enough to chase her. But enough to make whoever you’re with feel... less.”
No.
That’s not true.
Except—I can’t deny it. Not when those horrible words left my mouth last night.
Sure, I’ve found Rohi attractive in the past. But not now. Not while I’ve been with Gree.
Not while I’ve been with her.
My Gree.
“I don’t secretly want her, Greesha. Bhagwan ki qasam, I don’t. It was a stupid, drunk comment—because she was leaving. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” (Bhagwan ki qasam = Swear to God)
She doesn’t respond. Just smiles—serene and soul-killing—and leans sideways.
I barely keep myself from falling on my ass when she nudges me aside and reaches for my laptop.
She flips it around, screen facing me.
It’s open to my Notes app. Title: Mission Rohi.
My stomach drops.
No. No, no, no—what the fuck is this?
She points to the top of the note. “These first three links? High-profile jobs in Toronto that offer work visas to Indian citizens. Your resume is the perfect fit.”
My throat tightens.
“This one’s from your company’s internal job board. A transfer option from Delhi to Toronto.”
I feel like I’m being suffocated. She created this list? Why—
“And these last five?” she says, almost sweetly. “Affordable 8–12 month college programs in Toronto. Won’t burn through your savings too badly.”
I stare at the screen like it might vanish if I just blink hard enough.
“Gree—”
“She’s at the University of Toronto, right?”
I nod before I can stop myself.
“Perfect,” she chirps. “So now you’ve got at least nine possible ways to move to Canada. Or, more accurately—follow her.”
She gets up, calm as ever, and walks to the door to grab her shoes and bag.
I stumble after her, my voice cracking. “Baby—please, no. That’s... that’s not what I want. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you.”
I’m begging now, and I don’t care. Because she’s it. She’s everything.
And I’m about to lose her over a moment of drunken, unresolved nostalgia.
She turns to me one last time.
“You lost me last night,” she says quietly. “At 2:13 a.m. when you said those words. I won’t stay with someone who’s thinking about kissing someone else.”
Tears run hot and fast down my cheeks. “Please...”
She opens the door.
“Follow her, Advik,” she says, voice cracking for the first time. “Because I think... she’s the love of your life. And now that you’re both finally single at the same time—you can do something about it.”
I’m not single.
I’m not—
But she’s already gone.
The door clicks shut, and I’m left frozen in place.
What the fuck just happened?
Rohi is the love of my life?
No. She’s not.
Greesha is. But I’ve run out of ways to prove it.