Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE
Greesha
Eight hours and twenty two minutes.
That’s how long Advik has been crashing in his bedroom. I could see that he was about to fully collapse under the weight of everything that had happened today.
During those hours—after we left the crime scene—I had been able to gather information. Able to create some semblance of control.
Garvit shared how his team had arrived a few minutes after we did. But his tech brain quickly realized that they needed to let it play out. Dev was needed. Alive.
He also told me that Mehul had no intentions of delaying his shot in a villainy fashion. His trigger was pulled almost simultaneously—if not before—with Advik’s shot to Mehul’s head.
I wasn’t prepared to hear that because... what had I been doing? Nothing. I still didn’t know what Advik had done with his laptop during those excruciating minutes.
Had he transmitted the evidence? Had he deleted it?
Garvit has Advik’s slightly-chipped laptop sitting right next to him on my couch. But he hasn’t opened it. Something else is gnawing at him. I have never seen him rattled.
At the hospital, where Viraj was currently being treated, he had rallied the troops. Made sure he was first in the line to get the CT scan and X-rays. It was jarring to witness a boy that passionate about his superior.
Viraj was safe now—out of the woods. A team of ours was guarding his hospital room. While Garvit, Advik, and I were here. In Advik’s apartment. Silently contemplating the next steps, that seemed awfully out of reach.
Dev’s body was sent off for an emergency autopsy. We were still planning on how to justify his absence at his home for tonight. Tomorrow—we’d have to destroy his family.
Dev. Fuck.
My eyes well up again. I had been too focused on Advik. Then Viraj. So I hadn’t really let myself pause enough to think. Feel.
I still couldn’t believe the man was gone.
“I’ll know when—uh—Devendra’s autopsy is filed in the hospital system,” Garvit croaks. “We’ll know soon enough. What to actually tell his family.”
I nod numbly.
“Are you gonna check Advik’s laptop? His recent logs?” I ask, taking a sip of my water.
He shakes his head, grimly. “No. Let’s just wait for him to wake up. He can tell us more than me—just by interpreting it.”
That makes sense.
“L—Viraj is stable,” he declares, frowning at his phone. “He woke up a few minutes ago. No lung damage. A couple broken ribs. Grade three concussion. Nothing serious that he won’t... survive.”
My brows furrow at Garvit’s tone slightly. He seems dejected, but also irritated. I shake off my thoughts. Now isn’t the time to think about his perspective on the matter.
“You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you? Why aren’t you... at the hospital?” he blurts out. And I can see that he hadn’t meant to actually ask.
I pin him under my cool glare. “I know you’re new. But I’d rather you just do your job. Got it?”
His jaw clenches slightly before his throat bobs on a hard swallow. “Sorry, ma’am. I just... I apologize.”
I take another bite of the fries that we had ordered. They still seem tasteless. This is my third attempt at eating the damn things, but I can’t bring myself to actually eat.
All my brain is summoning are the visions of the brokenness I saw in Advik’s face. The terrifying moment he realized that Dev was gone. The way his breath fled his lungs. How his whole body shook.
I hadn’t known about his gun but I was somehow glad for it. It had given him the confidence, the protection, to keep himself safe. Because god knows I couldn’t have. Not today.
My head snaps up at the sound of his door unlatch. The moment he steps out I can see the slump in his stiff shoulders. As if a nightmare is still latching onto him.
I can’t even wake him up from it.
His eyes seek mine, red-rimmed. Hollow. Pained. Then his gaze sweeps his living room, landing on Garvit, who is staring at him warily.
No one knows what to say. There’s... nothing to break the dreaded silence.
Except for maybe one thing. And Advik takes it. The opportunity.
But I can see it in the way his shoulders drag down, even as he walks over and flips open his laptop. The reluctance. The grief. The hollow pause between motions of muscle memory. It’s almost as if he can’t bring himself to start mourning.
“I guess you want to know if the Sitara evidence is intact,” he says, almost to the screen. His fingers begin to move, mechanical and fast.
My heart aches at the resignation in his voice. The way he avoids eye contact. It’s like he doesn’t know how to feel—not yet. Like grief has become a job he never applied for, and now he’s showing up anyway.
“So...” Advik swallows hard, forcing his focus back. “I did delete everything. But... only because I realized Dev wanted me to.”
He pauses, letting the weight of that truth settle before continuing. “When he said it was okay to wipe it, I knew he had something in place. There’s a NAS server at GenVault—used only for our healthcare clients. Their data retention requirements are stricter, so...”
His hands don’t stop. They’re already chasing the thread.
“...he stored everything related to Sitara on the local server.”
He turns the screen toward us. And just like that, the breath I’d been holding rushes out of me. Of course Dev thought ahead. Of course he planned for the fucking worst.
Because deep down, he must’ve known it could cost him everything.
Garvit’s already at the laptop, taking over with sharp keystrokes and a sharp mind. Minutes pass in tight silence until he suddenly freezes.
“Jesus Christ,” Garvit mutters, eyes wide. “He baited Mehul with the son of the current Lieutenant General of the Indian Army.”
A disbelieving huff escapes him. “I see Mehul’s login history accessing the decoy account. All of it. It’s all here. It’s... all fucking here.”
His head snaps up, eyes lit with stunned triumph. “We got him.”
The room exhales.
Except Advik.
His face crumples in quiet pain. A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips, bitter and soft. He nods, rolling his lips inward to contain it all.
We have the evidence.
We have what we need to bring Mehul and his operation down.
What we don’t have... is Dev.
And I don’t think Advik’s ready to say that out loud yet.
Maybe he never will.
??????
I wake up with warmth engulfing me, and I know it’s Advik in an instant. I may have let it go before—pretended to sleep. But I can’t tonight.
I realize that we both need each other. His hold is tighter this time. More grounding. Unfailing.
A painful silence stretches before I break it. “Are you okay, Vik?”
I feel him stiffen slightly. “Yeah, baby. I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”
I nod as I snuggle closer. “I’m sorry for your loss. He was... he was a good guy.”
A humorless chuckle escapes him. “He was collateral, sweetheart. Don’t sugarcoat it. Could’ve been me quite easily.”
I hold him tighter at his confession. “I’m still sorry. And I wouldn’t have let it be you.”
When he doesn’t respond, I lean back. Watching his brows furrow with pain.
“I...” he croaks. “I don’t have a family like he does. Or kids. It... would’ve been better, I think.”
And I know—even as he lets the words out—he doesn’t believe them. Not fully. Because given the circumstances, it couldn’t have been Advik. Dev held all the cards. And he won.
Even in death.
“Yeah, if you’d have built a career out of programming—a decade ago. Joined GenVault as a cybersecurity expert. Sure. You’d be dead instead of him. All you have to do is change course from when you graduated university,” I huff.
I know it isn’t the easiest consolation, but I don’t want him thinking that it could’ve been a shared sacrifice. It belonged to the man who held the place of importance in Mehul’s eyes. Nothing else could’ve prevented it.
I feel his chest deflate on a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I guess.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and humming like the static before a storm.
I don’t know what to say. What to do with this moment that’s suddenly too fragile to hold. But I see it—the look in his eyes. Advik’s already thinking miles ahead. Preparing himself for a wound he suspects is coming.
And then his voice breaks through, trembling.
“I love you, Greesha,” he says, like it costs him something. “I’ve loved you for a long time but... I don’t know what’s next.”
I shift slightly, just enough to bring our faces into the same plane—to search for something in each other’s eyes. But before I can speak, he rushes to fill the silence. Like whatever he sees in mine has already given him his answer.
“I’m not saying there has to be some kind of future,” he adds softly. “But I’m not sure if... you even want one. With me.”
His voice is careful. Not pleading, just... bracing. Like he’s offering me a gift, and preparing himself for me to hand it back.
And God, I want to keep it. I want to curl into him and believe that love is enough to save us.
But I know myself. And worse—I know her.
Aadya died tonight. That version of me who made space for pain like it was a permanent roommate. And Greesha... she’s trying to claw her way out of the wreckage. Trying to figure out who she is without blood under her fingernails. Without a past that owns her.
I can’t bring someone else into this storm.
“I want a future,” I say, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingers. “But... my own.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. His breath stutters. His entire body trembles with understanding. With finality.
“I think I need to learn how to build a life,” I murmur. “With my own two hands. Not one handed to me. Not one stitched together by... my past.”
He sighs. His voice shatters. “So it’s... it’s g-goodbye?”
My face crumples. “Yes, baby. I’m so sorry.”
His eyes search mine. Like he’s trying to find a reason to fight, to stay, to argue. But he doesn’t. He just sees me. And maybe for the first time, he sees someone who won’t survive if she stays.
“Okay,” he whispers. Then drops his forehead to mine, tears slipping onto my skin. “Build your life, baby. Be Greesha. Be the woman you always wanted to be.”
And just like that... we break.
Not in fury or betrayal. But in acceptance.
Because I don’t think my fifteen-year-old self ever dreamed of this version of life. She wanted softness. Safety. Something boring and beautiful.
And I think I still do.
But I’ll have to find it on my own. Without anyone to lean on. Without expecting someone to carry the weight I haven’t learned to bear.
I have to leave her behind—the girl who thought survival was enough.
Because I want more.
And for once... I believe I might be able to build it.
Even if it means walking away from the only man who ever understood all of me.
Just before my eyes flutter shut, I whisper. Against my will. Crashing down the walls.
Not knowing if he heard my last words. Because this time—this time—I had agency over my life. My closure.
“I love you, too, Advik.”