Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Advik
TWO WEEKS LATER
“You will not step out of the farmhouse. You will not make a single contact with anyone you don’t already know,” Greesha had said, her voice calm and terrifyingly precise. “And you will absolutely not use any electronic devices to indicate your location.”
That voice still echoes in my ears. Like a security blanket laced with cyanide.
God, she’s so fucking hot when she’s scary.
Even out here—about 150 kilometers from New Delhi—she’s still my protection detail.
The farmhouse where Aarohi and Lucian are getting married is stunning, though smaller than the one Vikram and Ishika had booked for their wedding. Then again, Lucian’s side of the family barely crosses fifty people, so it tracks.
Everyone’s housed under the same roof, which makes surveillance easier, I guess.
The place is all mango trees and sandstone courtyards, with fairy lights slung like constellations across the sky.
But I’ve missed most of the functions. My window for disappearing from Delhi was small—three days at best. Mehul Bedi’s people are still watching.
The only reason I even made it here undetected is because of her.
Greesha.
The way she planned this—every detail, every exit, every blindspot—I was in awe. But she warned me she wouldn’t be visible. “You enjoy the wedding,” she’d said. “I’ll stay on perimeter.”
And just like that, she vanished.
I haven’t seen her since we got here. Fourteen hours ago.
And I hate how deeply I miss her already. Like a phantom limb that still aches. We’ve spent every damn day together for almost two months now, and now there’s this hollow space beside me.
I don’t even know where she’s staying. Ishika handled it quietly, under strict instructions—I wasn’t supposed to know. So now I’m here, sharing a room with one of Lucian’s friends—who conveniently disappeared about five hours ago.
I’m just about to crash for the night after hours of dancing and firecrackers, when I hear a couple of voices in the main hall.
Voices I know.
I pause at the hallway corner, frown tugging at my lips.
It’s 3 a.m.. What the hell is Lucian still doing awake the night before his wedding?
“Okay—fuck—wait!” Lucian’s frantic voice. “I’ll... I’ll give you 2.5% equity in Kepler Health. You can even be on the fucking board!”
I smother a laugh. What the hell?
“Really?” Kashvi’s voice oozes fake awe. “You’d give me that much equity? For what? A little conjugal visit?”
Lucian growls. “Kash... please. I haven’t seen her all day. I need to see my Rohi. Just for a second.”
I follow the sound, leaning around the corner to see them mid-negotiation. Kashvi has her arms crossed, one brow raised in pure villain mode. Lucian’s running both hands through his hair, his kurta rumpled like he’s been pacing.
“Fine,” Kashvi says casually. “Make it 50% equity and I’ll let you sneak in. Maybe even squeeze in a quickie if you’re fast. Which I’m guessing isn’t unusual.”
Lucian looks horrified—but not for the reason I thought. “Fifty?! Are you deranged? That’s not how equity works!”
“It’s how love works,” Kashvi quips.
“I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime investment in my company,” Lucian groans. “Fine. Two... point...” he grits out like he can’t breathe. “Seven five percent!”
She cackles. Full-on witch mode. “It’s all or nothing, Lucifer!”
And I lose it too, finally laughing out loud. The man is whipped.
Lucian spins around like a guilty kid caught at recess. “You heard nothing.”
I watch as Kashvi beams at me. “Advik!”
She practically bounces over and throws her arms around me in a hug. I give her a squeeze, then glance over her shoulder at Lucian—who looks like a man freshly defeated in a custody battle.
“I didn’t see you all day!” Kashvi pulls back, smacking my shoulder a little too close to my gunshot wound. It’s mostly healed by now, but I still flinch. She doesn’t notice.
You know what’s not healed? My fucking throat. My voice is cracking at inopportune times. That fucking punch was masterful.
“Good to see you, Kash,” I chuckle. “Where’s your guy?”
Her face twists in mock-disgust. “Ugh. Liam is probably putting rose petals on our bed as we speak.”
Lucian strolls over with the slow, annoyed gait of a man who knows he’s outnumbered and out-negotiated.
“Hey man,” he says, giving me a half-hug, then narrows his eyes at Kashvi. “I could be doing that for your best friend right now. But nooo—Kashvi the gatekeeper decided we must suffer.”
“She’s fiiiiine! She passed out after her last vodka shot. You... not so much.”
Lucian pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tell me you didn’t encourage this? She needs to be up by nine tomorrow for the whole kaleere thing!”
Ah, the kaleere. That age-old tradition where the bride clinks her bangled hands together, hoping the kaleere—the umbrella-like trinkets—will fall onto the heads of her unmarried friends or family.
I’ve never seen it happen live—only caught glimpses in.
But from what I understand, if the kaleere drop on you, it means you’re next in line to get hitched.
“Bye, Advik!” Kashvi sing-songs, sauntering off like the chaos fairy she is. “Bye, Lucifer! May your hair survive tomorrow.”
Lucian shouts after her, “I hope she drops the kaleere on you!”
She only blows him a kiss before disappearing into the hall. Leaving me and Lucian alone.
I’m still laughing when Lucian turns to me with the look of a man slowly losing all control of his wedding. “Is she always like this? You’ve known her longer.”
“Worse,” I say, grinning. “But you already knew that.”
He groans.
I laugh again. It was only a year ago that I saw Kashvi being hostile toward him. For hurting Aarohi the way he did. I still don’t know what he did to garner that hatred.
But they’re getting married. So I guess he fixed it.
I sober at the thought. Can I fix things with Greesha? Is it even fixable?
We settle onto the couch in the main hall—Lucian pulling out his phone, fingers hesitating over the screen. I don’t miss the quiet agony in his eyes as he opens his chat with Aarohi.
His bride. I smile.
“How are you holding up?” I ask, lightly clapping his shoulder, keeping my tone light.
He sighs and tosses his phone onto the cushion beside him, then stares blankly at the ceiling.
“Christ,” he mutters. “I’ve never been away from her this long.”
I chuckle. And I realize he’s feeling the same way—as I am about Gree. Fuck. How did I go on without her for three fucking years—when I can’t handle her being away for mere fourteen hours?
“You’ll see Aarohi tomorrow, man. She’ll be the one in... red? I don’t know what her bridal gown is like.”
He goes silent.
I glance over, confused, only to find him watching me with something unreadable flickering in his expression. A weight that feels a little too personal.
“Yeah, you don’t know a lot about her anymore. You never contacted her after Vikram’s wedding. For a year she hasn’t heard from you.”
My lips part and then I clear my throat. “She told you that?”
He sighs. “Well, we’ve talked about that night where you... you both... you know. Our couples therapy brought it up. And she knew then—that your friendship was over. But she expected some word from you about the wedding at least. Hell! I did too.”
I scoff. “I’m sorry, Lucian. But we were barely friends. I... she... that night at Vikram’s wedding was a mistake.”
His frown deepens. “Barely friends? That’s a hell of a rewrite. I wasn’t thrilled about you being invited to our wedding, but I didn’t expect you to say that.”
I wield a smirk—one of those carefully crafted, insincere ones. “Why? Were you afraid?”
He snorts. “Please. Even if we were having a Christian wedding, I’d skip the objection part. Didn’t want you getting any ideas.”
That earns a laugh from me, dry but genuine. “Relax. No objections from me. Unless of course... you were marrying my woman.”
His face pulls into amused disbelief. “Your woman? Didn’t know you had one.”
I shift slightly, uncomfortable under the weight of how true that statement feels. Greesha isn’t mine. Not really. But god, the way she’s carved herself into my bones over the last few months... it feels like she is.
“How...” I start, quieter this time. “How did you fuck up with Aarohi? And more importantly... how did you fix it?”
Lucian stills. His playful demeanor drops, replaced by something darker. A shadow of remorse. “I... began our relationship on a lie. And... fuck. I don’t like to think about it. Why do you ask?”
I meet his gaze. No grin this time. Just... honesty.
“Because you’re not the only guy who’s fucked it up with the love of his life.”
Lucian’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Well... what did you do?” Lucian asks. “And to whom?”
I know this is a mutual landmine we’re about to step on. His bride is the very reason I might never get Greesha back. But I push through. No more masks. Not tonight.
“Greesha,” I say her name like a prayer. It comes out low and reverent, like something I’ve held in my chest too long. “She was my girlfriend. When Aarohi left for Canada and...” I glance at him and offer a dry smile, “met your sorry ass.”
Lucian lets out a reluctant laugh, shaking his head. I can tell he’s bracing for more.
I go on. “The night of Aarohi’s farewell party... I was drunk. And I made a stupid comment about wanting to kiss her goodbye.” My voice falters, a small crack forming. “Greesha heard me. And she left. Just... ended it. No explanation. Just gone.”
My chest tightens at the memory—how blank her face had been the next morning. How her eyes were glassed over, cold. But I know better now. That was armor. She was hiding the damage I’d done. Protecting herself with detachment because she didn’t want me to see her bleed.
I can’t bring myself to look at Lucian.
“You...” he says carefully. “You hurt your girl because you had unresolved feelings for Rohi?”
I nod. “She left because I hurt her. Because I had... unresolved confusion. Not... not feelings—at least not real ones. It was just... protectiveness. Misplaced, misguided, and mistaken for something else. Something romantic.”
I hear Lucian sigh. “I don’t think Rohi saw it that way. You were a friend. You were there for her when—”
He stops abruptly. And I wonder what memory holds him. “What?”
“She once told me how you were always there during her breakups and... when her family was being cruel,” he says humbly as though remembering something.
“I don’t know if I’m crossing a line but... I once overheard her saying she was done. With everything.”
Lucian nods, a fearful shadow crossing over. “She was... suicidal for a while, yes. God! I can’t imagine being in her shoes. The way people treated her. Making comments about her body. And then I made things worse.”
I give him a slow nod. “Yeah, which is why the whole protectiveness thing started. And when she was here after breaking up with you? I didn’t know if she was back in that state. My head was muddled. I was... grieving Greesha. And made a mistake.”
I sit up straighter, spine stiff with guilt. “I don’t think I ever apologized to you, Lucian. About that night. I’m sorry.”
He stares at me, surprised. “We were broken up, Advik. I don’t blame you. Or her. I never did.”
I sigh. “Well, I blame myself for sleeping with her while I was grieving the woman I love who was...” Dead. “Gone.”
He leans forward, running a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ. I always wondered why you didn’t fight for Rohi, given your history. Now I think I get it.”
I chuckle softly, the sound bitter. “Yeah. Because I never would’ve fought for her in the first place. You had nothing to worry about.”
Lucian looks at me, something gentler softening his voice. “And... Greesha?”
My throat tightens. “She’s the only one I’d fight for. But I might’ve already lost her. For good.”
We lapse into silence. The weight of it settles between us—heavy, unspoken, and real.
I’ve carried this truth for three years. I’ve finally said it out loud to a person I hadn’t expected. But it doesn’t sting any less.
“Huh!” Lucian says suddenly, a dry chuckle escaping. I glance at him as he continues. “So I wasn’t the only sad fuck during Vikram’s wedding.”
He grins, trying to lighten the air.
I offer a crooked smirk. “Guess not.”
The amusement fades, and he sobers. “For what it’s worth... I hope you get her back.”
He pats my back as he stands, voice gentler now. “Until then—my wedding can handle one sad fuck.”
I laugh under my breath, low and reluctant. Watch him walk off down the hallway, alone in the dim light.