Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Greesha
I stare at the text again.
Viraj: Get him back. We’ve got a plan.
A sigh slips out as I lower the phone and glance up.
Advik stands near the entrance of the farmhouse, half-shaded by the soft orange lights and the flower canopy being held up for the bridal walk.
Aarohi is adjusting her lehenga, ducking beneath the floral arch. She looks radiant. Joyful. Maybe even impatient.
And I? I’m tucked into the shadows off the edge of the lawn, blending in with the farmhouse staff—discreet, forgettable. The only thing setting me apart is the ammunition strapped under these plain-looking clothes.
I shouldn’t be watching him this closely.
But I do.
Every time he smiles. Every time he blinks. Every time he winces just slightly when he moves his arm.
Is he still hurting?
His shoulder—it’s still bothering him. Fuck.
I see it in the way he favors it, the way he fumbled when he tied that stupid ribbon to the scissors earlier so the groom could “cut his way into the function” and have the baraat enter. I was there too. Watching from a distance. Invisible.
God! Why do I still have all these feelings from before? Or are they new? Maybe they’re residual?
But they don’t feel old.
They feel raw. Redefined.
And that leaden weight in my stomach from last night—after overhearing everything—hasn’t lifted. In fact, it’s heavier now, tangled with Viraj’s cryptic message from earlier this evening.
Whatever plan he has, I’ll need to make sure we leave right after the damn ceremony.
The music shifts.
Aarohi steps into the aisle with her band of friends and family—her brothers flanking her sides. The moment is pure, magical, picture-perfect.
But I’m not watching her.
I’m watching him.
Advik is bickering with a girl I recognize instantly—Kashvi Mehra. I’ve never met her. But I’ve done my research.
She’s Aarohi’s best friend. Fierce. Loud. Unfiltered.
I don’t know her. I know Christian Reid though. Her colleague and... friend. They both work for the global investigation firm, SentinelOne—that once employed me. Back when I was in a relationship with Advik.
Our paths never crossed because we were in different branches—different countries. I doubt Kashvi was even a part of it then. But I did work with Christian once. Nice guy. Solid tech expert. Gay. Or maybe he’s bisexual because he never leaves Kashvi’s side from what I saw in the reports.
She’s currently involved with Liam Winters—cofounder of Kepler Health alongside the groom, Lucian Vale.
My hackles rise as the music suddenly cuts out.
Hand flying instinctively to the gun at my side, I scan the lawn for a threat—eyes darting, breath locked in my throat.
But it’s a false alarm.
A random American song kicks in, the crowd bursts into cheers, and the serene energy of the wedding shifts into laughter and joy.
I exhale slowly, my muscles still coiled from the scare, just in time to catch sight of him.
Advik. Laughing.
Trying to dance with one hand while his other shoulder—still recovering—holds up the goddamn canopy.
He shouldn’t be carrying anything yet, let alone a floral structure during a bridal walk. But I suppose it’s something he refused to be talked out of.
And then it hits me.
He’s carrying the flower canopy for Aarohi’s bridal walk.
And he’s happy doing it.
I already knew—somewhere between last night and this morning—that he had no concerns about her wedding. That he was... okay with it.
But this? This seals it.
This makes it undeniable.
Because no man would do that—carry the symbolic passageway for the woman he still pined for—unless he was truly, deeply, unequivocally at peace with letting her go.
And it kills me.
His glee makes my teeth grind. Because now, another reason to hate him has slipped away. Because he’s happy with this.
But even then... even in this whirl of colors and noise and people, I can tell: the sorrow he silently carries isn’t for her.
It’s for me.
Every few minutes, the stupid man looks around, scanning the crowd. Trying to spot me.
He won’t. I’m too good at what I do.
Still... there’s this clawing urge inside me to step out of the shadows. To walk toward him. To take part in all of it.
The pull is so visceral, so unrelenting, my heart thuds with the ache of it.
An hour passes before I watch him step onto the stage to congratulate the bride and groom.
He’s laughing.
They’re laughing.
He hugs Lucian. Barely brushes Aarohi’s shoulder. Just a gleaming, effortless smile before stepping aside.
Maybe it’s for my benefit. Maybe he knows I’m watching, monitoring this entire ceremony like a hawk. But I don’t think it’s a performance.
I think... he’s grown.
His words, his actions—they’re a brutal catalogue of restraint. Of grief. Of choosing no one after thinking I was dead.
And I wonder...
If he couldn’t move on with the woman he once had feelings for—even muddled ones—then could he really have moved on with anyone else? I thought I did.
The thought stops me cold.
Because not long after Vikram’s wedding... he tried to—fuck—kill himself.
My stomach clenches at the memory. At the brutal, quiet truth of it.
The man I love had once looked at the world... and chose not to live in it.
I shake the thought away. Focus. I need to stay alert.
A few hours later, I decide it’s time to show my face. We need to leave. The trap for Mehul Bedi has to end, and the ceremony’s already dragging.
I spot Advik in the main hall. It’s swarming with activity. A few uncles and aunties are arguing with the workers about the mandap.
Looks like the pheras are next.
But we can’t wait for that.
We need to move. Now.
I step closer, about to cross into his line of sight as he chats with this Liam guy, when I feel the sudden nearness of a hand brushing toward my shoulder.
I spin, body taut.
It’s a woman. Bright-eyed, maybe in her 50s. She looks vaguely familiar—probably someone from the bride’s family.
“Arrey! Thank god! Beta, can you find the—”
“Kiki Aunty,” Advik’s voice cuts in, smooth as ever. “Sorry. She’s... not a worker here. What do you need?”
My eyes snap wide. That’s Kiki Aunty?
That’s Aarohi’s mother.
And what the hell is he doing? What is he going to tell her?
“Oh,” she deflates. “I thought... anyway. I can’t find the coconut. I left it in Rohi’s room. But it’s not—oh my god! What if...”
Advik offers a practiced smile. “I’ll find it, aunty. Or I’ll send Kashvi on the hunt. Don’t worry.”
She breathes out, grateful—but not before casting me a lingering, suspicious glance.
“What happened? Everything okay?” he murmurs once she’s gone, his brows pinched with concern.
My breath hitches as he steps closer, his hands landing gently on my arms. It’s been like this since that kiss two weeks ago. He touches me more freely now.
Fuck. And I never stop him, do I?
I think I’m addicted to the feeling of his skin on mine.
“Yeah,” I manage, forcing my voice into steadiness. “We need to leave. Head back to Delhi. Now.”
His frown deepens, but he doesn’t argue.
He just nods and mutters, “Let me get Kashvi to find the fucking... coconut.”
I nearly snort. “Meet me at the main gate in twenty minutes.”
And with that, I slip away to pack up my minimal gear—my mind racing.
What did Viraj mean by ‘we’ve got a plan’?
Whatever it is, I just hope this trapping-Mehul-Bedi phase is over. Because the next phase?
Could be far worse.