Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
Advik
ONE YEAR LATER
“Oh, Advik! You didn’t have to,” Meena chuckles as she reluctantly takes the three boxes of sweets from my hand.
I smile at her hesitation. It’s been like this since Dev died. The wound of her husband’s passing, Gauri and Madhav’s father, is slowly healing. Not because of me. But because she now knows what he did. The details of the operation were privately disclosed to her.
About the heroic part Dev played in bringing down an international child trafficking organization.
How he sacrificed himself and protected the kids—not just his own.
I’ve visited Dev’s family during every major festival and holiday for the past year. And witnessing Meena’s transformation from a grieving widow to a proud wife was inspiring.
Even though the dull ache in her eyes remains, I know she believes that her family will be able to carry him with them.
It’s almost Diwali in a few days. And today, I wanted to make sure I visit her and the kids before I’m summoned by my own parents.
Ishika, Vikram, and my ten month old niece—Lavanya—have been hounding me for weeks. The little menace is the best part of my day. Whether in person or via video calls.
The relationship with my family has somewhat improved. But a lot of it was thanks to my therapist. He taught me how to fit into my family after everything that had happened.
The reveal about me remembering Khushi—my sister. The Mehul Bedi takedown. The gain and loss of Greesha. Dev’s sacrifice. All of it had been pressingly painful.
But I think I’m in a place where I know that the only person I can save is myself. The only responsibility I have is to make myself happy enough that my presence is sufficient to support others.
I’ve stopped assuming other’s failures as my own personal defeat. I’ve learned the difference between blame and responsibility.
How I may hold myself responsible for certain things in my life, but I’m not to blame everytime. That intent matters.
“Fine. But... okay just—two boxes are enough.” Meena starts to shove one of the boxes back into my hands.
“Arrey Meena Ji. C’mon! Gauri loves kaaju barfi. There’s two boxes of them. Take it, please.”
Her eyes glisten with remembered memories. The fact that I know her teenage daughter loves kaaju barfi is a testament that I listened when Dev talked.
I felt guilty—initially—when I realized that I’d never properly met his family before he died. We’d been working together for years, and I’d only met them in passing during company events.
But I guess I was still listening when Dev talked about them. Because suddenly, I remembered a lot more than I imagined.
She gives me a watery giggle, her hand gently patting my cheek. We say our goodbyes and promise to meet again soon.
On my drive back to my parents place—which undoubtedly would be a chaotic mess of relatives tonight—my mind wanders. To Greesha.
Always Greesha.
I haven’t heard from her since the day after she finally told me that I’m not her future. Or at least I’m not in it.
We’d spent that day in a rare lull. She’d handed over the investigation to her seniors. Pulling herself out of it.
The normalcy of that day is etched into my heart. It felt like I was finally hers, for one last time. We made the most of it.
She didn’t even say goodbye. But her disappearance this time was slower. More intimate. She’d given us the time to part, without prying at our bond. It was a gradual slip.
I wonder where she is now, a year later. Is she still a special agent? Probably not. How does she fill her days? Does she add sugar in her coffee now? Is she the Greesha during our relationship or is she someone entirely new?
Is her name even Greesha anymore?
The thoughts bring nothing but a faint ache in my chest now. Initially, I was devastated. Vikram hadn’t known how to handle my moods. But therapy helped.
Because this time—it really was over. And I was actively working on accepting it—albeit poorly.
Parking my car on the street, I head over to the bungalow. The same house I grew up in. At first, when everything about Khushi was still fresh—I’d refused to step foot in the house. I couldn’t handle the regretful gazes of my parents.
It was almost as though we’d brought a ghost back to life. Like the corners of the house that were once part of their healing reality—suddenly held the hidden sorrow I’d endured.
I couldn’t manage that—what with everything else in my life. But for the past few months, it’s become easier.
Maybe not easier—but less agonizing.
“You’re here!” I hear Ishika. She’s excitedly running toward me as I enter.
The house is in a state of disarray. Uncles, aunties, a few neighbors even—strewn about. The pre-Diwali festivities are already in motion.
“Wouldn’t have missed it, Ishi.” I grin at her, giving her a hug. “Where’s my girl?”
“Oh Lavi is currently with her Daadu.” She turns around, gesturing to follow her inside. “Want something? Juice? Chai?” (Daadu = father’s father)
She pauses suddenly, a smirk forming as she looks over. “Whiskey?”
I snort, my arm slinging over her shoulder. “Thank you, Bhabhi Ji. But I’m good.” (Bhabhi Ji = wife of your brother)
I bask in the comfortable warmth of my family. I hadn’t been dreading it—but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to handle the awful question around finding a significant other. The last time I was asked was months ago—on Holi. Needless to say, I wasn’t in a good place.
The loss of Greesha was still fresh then. And I had snapped pretty hard. Aggressively even.
But I was better this time around. I felt quite confident that I’d be able to scurry around the question, if asked.
Surprisingly, though, no one brought it up.
At around midnight, the laughter and music has died down. Most people have left—leaving me with the tender intimacy of close family.
I am on the balcony now, nursing a glass of juice when someone claps my shoulder.
I turn around to see the very beaming face of my brother. “So... how’re you feeling?”
I roll my eyes at his favorite question. That’s how most of our conversations start.
“I’m fine, Vicky,” I grumble.
He chuckles. “I know you are. You’ve been getting better. I just... this is the first festival with the whole damn family where you didn’t—you know—disappear off to the side.”
I quirk a brow, smirking at the fact that I’m doing exactly that. Given I sought solitude on the balcony.
“Fucking fine! At least it’s after everyone left!”
He relents and a genuine laugh escapes me. “I’m fine, Bhai. Honestly, I think... I’m ready.”
His brows furrow in confusion. “For...?”
I clear my throat. “Your offer. I’ve been scouting your bar for weeks. I think I’m in a place where I want to invest.”
He beams at me. “Really? Shit! I didn’t—are you sure? You weren’t very keen when I opened it.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t that. I was concerned that... being around alcohol would cause an issue. But I’ve never slipped. Not once.”
“I know you didn’t want to add to your list of things to worry about. My offer was... to give you some security. A stress-free option for your lifestyle.”
I nod somberly. “GenVault isn’t bad. It’s just... I’m planning to cut down my client list by at least 30%. After... everything? I just think I need something more than project fucking management.”
He laughs into his whiskey glass. “You think bar owners don’t do project management? I’m a former management consultant and it’s practically the same. With... added manual labor.”
I groan. “Fine. I get it. But at least I won’t be knee deep in cybersecurity. It’s getting harder with all the new clientele GenVault gathered after the whole... trafficking thing. The glorification of the firm didn’t help.”
“Fuck! I can’t believe you were part of it, man. The day I saw that news—I was so proud of you.” He smiles, which suddenly morphs into a smirk. “Are you sure I still can’t tell anyone about your involvement?”
“I’m sure, you idiot,” I deadpan.
He throws his head back and laughs. “C’mon brother! You literally brought the whole thing down.”
Memories cloud my mind. The year old pain, a gentle pulse in my ear. “Not just me. It was... a joint operation.”
His face falls immediately. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t—I was speaking out of my ass. I’m sorry.”
I give him a tired smile. Silence falls over us. He nervously takes another sip.
“Have you heard from her?” he asks.
I dazedly shake my head—my thoughts a million miles away. But right there with her.
“I miss her,” I finally whisper after a beat. “I really, really miss her.”
He gives me a sad smile and nods solemnly. “Maybe... try dating again? If you’re at the bar all the time, I’m sure—”
“Not... not yet.”
“It’s time to move on, Bhai.”
A humorless chuckle forms. “If I didn’t in four and a half years, I doubt it’ll happen any time soon.”
He sighs. “Just... give it a thought.”
I nod reluctantly. Even though I have no intention to follow through. Not yet.
A few days after Diwali, I am all set to start working at Vikram’s bar plus restaurant lounge—High on Happy.
Happy—Khushi in English. When Vikram opened it five months ago, I was surprised by the name. It was a tribute that he couldn’t have told me about before. Back when he thought I didn’t remember our kid sister.
Now, he openly—proudly—admits it to me.
I smile as I enter. I’ve been here multiple times. But today feels different. Because I co-own it now.
A sense of pride flows through me. But a parallel sense of dread boxes me in—that I’m moving on.
Moving away... from her.
But it’s not just that, is it? It’s the fact that whatever direction I move toward, I don’t know if I’m closing in on her or moving away. It’s a leaden lump in my chest that yearns to know where she is—but the reality of the unknown is easier than knowing.
Knowing that maybe... I really am drifting away from her.