Chapter 10
TEN
Advik
Body. Mind. Heart.
When all three of those things stare at you with contempt written on their face, you... tend to do stupid things.
Like smile at the woman you lost.
And I did.
Because she was alive.
That was enough to make my lips curve into an undeserving smile. I shouldn’t smile.
But it was enough for my chest to finally expand like it was meant to. Enough for the blood to start pumping again in a heart I thought was done for.
This is good.
She’s... alive.
I said it out loud like a fucking idiot, because it was all my brain could register. All that mattered. All that my ears needed to hear. To erase the other dreaded words from my brain.
I take a step forward—tentative. Careful.
Afraid that if I moved too fast, she’d disappear like she always did in my head.
But she doesn’t.
She stays.
Her brows crease when I get closer. Her mouth opens slightly, like she has something to say—maybe something sharp, knowing her. Probably meant to reprimand me for the disaster I was back in that meeting room.
I deserve it.
I hadn’t said a word. Couldn’t.
Not when I was supposed to. Not when Dev was counting on me.
He’ll be pissed. Whatever. I’ll deal.
All I could do was feel her. Watch her discreetly.
At the slope of her neck. The scar. Her hands. Any patch of skin that might tell me where she’s been.
What happened to her.
Because she looked like she died and came back.
Like she met death and made it flinch first.
I recognized that look.
Because I’ve worn it too these past few months.
But it’s different seeing it on her.
Knowing that the woman I loved—still love—was that close to being erased.
I force myself to meet her eyes.
The scar draws my gaze, but I push past it. I push through the thousand versions of her I’ve conjured in nightmares and dreams.
And I see her.
I see the truth.
She’s here. She’s real.
And she’s so much and not enough and too much all at once.
My hand moves before I can stop it. Reaching. Needing.
She steps back. Not in fear—more like instinct.
Like she felt it before I even acted on it.
My throat tightens. “Please just...”
The words come out wrecked.
“I just want to touch you.”
Just to know this isn’t a hallucination. That she won’t dissipate into smoke like every other time.
I lift my hand. Palm open. Inviting.
She sees it out of the corner of her eye.
And her face turns to stone.
Like I just reached for a relic that no longer belongs to me.
And maybe I didn’t.
Maybe I never did.
But it doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, or the way her silence feels like a bullet to the ribs.
She’s alive. But she’s not mine.
Not anymore. And maybe... she never was.
Instead of sliding her hand into mine, she holds out her fist. Not as a threat—no, this is something else.
A quiet rebellion. A small act of defiance.
Like this is her only way to say: you don’t get to have me anymore.
And I get it.
God, I get it.
I deserve every inch of distance she builds.
Still, I reach out—slowly. Gingerly. My fingers graze her knuckles, and I flinch.
An electric spark snaps through my skin.
She’s real.
She’s here.
Not a memory. Not a cruel trick of the mind.
I don’t try to hold her hand. I wouldn’t dare. But I keep my palm beneath hers.
And she opens her fist.
Just a little.
Just enough that it feels like—almost—she lets me hold her again.
I look up. And God help me, she’s still so fucking beautiful.
But my brain’s an asshole. It reminds me of all the times I found her beautiful and still...
Still managed to fuck it up.
Still missed what mattered. Still made her question her place beside me.
An urge rises.
I lift my other hand. She winces.
“Can I...” I stop. My voice comes out rough, cracked. “Can I touch your face?”
It’s horrifying to know that I’d be this degraded in her eyes that my touch would ever offend her.
But she doesn’t speak. Just nods.
Expression blank. Like it doesn’t matter to her. Just a tired exasperation.
It matters to me. And for now, that’s enough.
I cup her cheek with a reverence I don’t deserve.
Light. Careful.
Like I might break her—or myself—if I press too hard.
My thumb traces the scar. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move.
But something in her eyes flickers. Panic, maybe.
Or a memory.
And then I do it. The thing I used to do. The thing I never realized mattered.
I smile. Just a small, shaking tilt of my head.
Something I used to do when she hesitated with intimacy. Something I never realized was this embedded in her.
My practiced, natural gesture mutely said, it’s okay, I’ll wait. And she remembers. I see it in her eyes.
Her breathing changes. Her eyes flutter shut.
Then reopen—empty again.
I take my cue.
I let go and step back.
“Aadya?” I ask.
She nods. “Alias.”
Her voice is clipped.
I smile, a little brokenly. “Suits you.”
She swallows hard and looks at me, harder than before.
“Greesha Das is dead.”
My chest caves slightly. I nod. “Yeah.”
She straightens her spine. Cold. Sharp.
“Just get the client, Vik. And we’re good.”
The nickname stings. Not because she said it—but because of how. Mocking. Detached. Like it was never hers to say.
I nod. “Anything else you need from us?”
She smiles. But it’s not kind.
“Keep this to yourself,” she says. “I’m Aadya—and no one else.”
I want to say something more. Something soft. Something pitiful. Pathetic.
But she’s already moving. And in a blink—
She’s gone.
Like she was never here at all.
Like maybe I dreamed her into existence again.
Except I didn’t.
This time, I was able to touch her.