Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
Greesha
There’s a disconnect that happens between you and the version you had idolized for decades.
And it doesn’t happen immediately. It happens when you’ve let go of the notion that you don’t exist. That you never existed in the first place.
That the version you’ve being living as, is nothing but a concept woven by horrible circumstances. But then again—who am I without the actions I took. The life I went through.
I’m a culmination of the decisions I made. Each decision informed by external factors. It’s not that I didn’t have agency. I did. But it was more about the fact that I altered my life based on an end goal.
That someday I’ll face the peace. I’ll embrace it. Someday... I’ll rid myself of the pain of having my idolized life ripped from me.
It was a destination. Not a lifestyle.
The moment I understood that my current life had been a limbo consisting of procrastinating peace—I changed. I forced myself to realize that with or without Advik, I needed to find it for myself.
Not as an end goal—but a moving target. Constantly chasing something that I once thought I would eventually reach. That my sacrifices would manifest a life.
But I had to actually fucking choose it. And I hadn’t. Not for years. Because I treated peace as a reward. One more mission. One more surrender.
And it hadn’t worked.
So now—a year after I ejected myself from Advik’s life—I find myself wondering why even the decision to disappear from his life was designed as a pursuit of peace?
Because I know now, that I associated him with a life that actively avoided it.
But four months into therapy, I realized that I was seeking peace after violence. That the year and half with him was temporary. That I imagined myself being cocooned in the calmness, without addressing the gore that still lived in my chest.
That a moment of tranquility in Advik’s arms wouldn’t have rid me of the pain I needed to acknowledge—to gain that stupid, imagined peace. Which is why I failed when we first got together all those years ago.
However, today, I realize something I’ve been avoiding. The level of exposure he had to my life helped me see it—helped me admit that I’d been holding up a blockade. Not just between me and him. But between me and peace.
Because I couldn’t have that peace if I let the past keep dictating the future. I couldn’t enjoy what was real if I kept bracing for it to fall apart.
I still can’t believe I lucked out with a government-mandated therapist who was willing to actually help me get out of the action, not keep me hooked in it.
Her words echo in my head—the first time she said it.
??????
“I think you ended up controlling a narrative you thought your life was headed toward. You wanted to reach it on your own terms. You built this whole story of sacrifice and reward. So until you actually earned that reward, you couldn’t let the story end.”
“You mean... I needed my work to result in some—what—justice?” I’d asked, hands trembling.
She shook her head gently.
“I mean you needed control over your outcome. Because after fifteen, the most important thing taken from you... was control. Your parents, the forced relocation to the orphanage, the interference from your extended family, your recruitment to RAW. Even your career in special forces—did you truly choose any of it?”
I remember shaking my head dumbly. I used to think I was one of those emotionally damaged yet mentally stable women—the kind who stitched their life together with trauma and then pinned medals on themselves for surviving it.
But now? I just think I was a controlling moron trying to survive by keeping everything tightly in my grip.
“Doesn’t explain why I sought a relationship with Advik back then,” I’d muttered, trying to poke a hole in her theory.
She smiled, unbothered.
“Actually, that’s the one time you had closure. That assignment had ended. You were finally in a position to make a choice. And you chose something that resembled peace.”
“Resembled? So it wasn’t?” I asked, hesitant.
“It resembled the life you wanted because it gave you control over at least... one part of it. But you didn’t quit the force. You only... paused it. Why do you think that was?”
I frowned.
“Because I—I wasn’t confident enough to believe it was happening. The life I’d imagined. It looked like it. But it didn’t... feel like it.”
She nodded with quiet understanding.
“Probably because you were still clutching the backup plan. And I’m not blaming your need for a Plan B. I’m saying you didn’t trust the moment. Because time and again, you’ve been failed by the moment, haven’t you?”
I remember it so clearly. The breath I let out—shaky and exhausted. Like the truth had been lying dormant in my lungs, waiting for someone to name it.
“Fucking hell,” I’d muttered, slumping in the chair. “I get it. My parents were murdered—loss of control. The orphanage? Another. My parents’ families—more betrayal. At eighteen, I couldn’t stop their attack. Couldn’t even scream. Loss of control again.”
I blinked, eyes welling up. I’d been so far down the rabbit hole that I finally saw the full picture.
The only time I ever felt in control was when I was being trained. When I was recruited. And even that? Wasn’t my choice. It was an illusion. The confidence RAW gave me? I mistook that for control.
So when real life showed up... when Advik gave me love, I clutched it with one hand. But the other? The other still held the damn gun.
Why? Why the fuck did I do that?
She must’ve seen it—this war unraveling in my head.
“Because you don’t trust easily. People failed you. Your parents. Their families. RAW, to some extent. Even Advik failed you. You couldn’t control his closeness to the... other woman. So you ran. You bailed. Before he could prove you wrong—or right.”
An uneven breath escaped me. My life—boxed into a behavioral pattern. A timeline of highs and lows, every turn shaped by control, or the lack of it.
I don’t trust.
I tried. And I failed.
“You exhibit subtle signs of obsessive-compulsive behavior, paired with traits common to paranoid personality disorder,” she said gently, clearly. “This isn’t a diagnosis—not yet. We’ll need more information and tests.”
Then she added what I think will stay with me for a long time:
“But I can tell you this—if you want to create space for trust, you’ll need to grieve the illusion of control.
You’ll need to allow for uncertainty. Not everything can be wrestled into obedience, Greesha.
And maybe—just maybe—you’ll learn that people can still stay.
.. even when you stop trying to predict their exit. ”
??????
That is what started the game of hide and seek. Almost eight months ago. I wanted to see if I could free myself of control. I let go of the idolized picture I had painted for my life. Instead, I built it.
I didn’t imagine it anymore. I created it for myself.
I feared loss of control, right? And so the fact that I was a teetotaler was a fear I clutched onto. I let it go. I started small. Started with wine.
When I knew my tolerance—I sustained it. Never pushed it. Then I built the confidence to actually test myself in bars. Restaurants. It worked. I was... surprisingly okay.
The second thing I did was lack of a home. I never had one, save for the time I thought Advik’s place could be one. I put a portion of my savings for a small apartment. I built the homeliness of it.
That’s when I discovered that my imagined peace was truly a dream that hadn’t matured with me.
I liked French press instead of a coffee machine. I enjoyed a sectional, gray couch instead of a maroon one that my parents used to have. I loved sitcoms instead of thrillers. That I find medium-firm mattresses better than the firm ones.
That led me to understand that my idea of peace was stupidly outdated. And the version I am, desires something else.
Desires... Advik.
Which brings me to today—a year later. Three months of casual... stalking. Yes, I’d call it that. Because I genuinely wanted to understand what his life looked like when I wasn’t controlling it.
I had a piece of myself always embedded into his life. But for the past year, I was truly gone. With warning even.
And he was... rebuilding. Without hope. Without a miracle.
He hadn’t done this even when he thought I was dead. And now—when he knew I was still alive, somewhere—he was moving forward.
I smile as I remember his face when he met with his family over Diwali celebrations. He looked happy. And I think that part helped me understand that we both had finally reached a point of mutual peace. In our own world.
I missed him. I really fucking missed him.
Given that I was stalking the man—it was obvious. But I never sought him out.
I couldn’t. Our lives were inching away. And the dread of that reality was settling in my heart. That I had run from him. Again.
This time though, I remembered it.
Our last kiss, our last hug, last laugh—last fuck. I remembered all of it vividly.
I enter the bar, my usual routine to test my skills I had gained over the past months. I felt happier with my life. I had a job I enjoyed. I was honorably discharged from RAW. I even had colleagues I could call... friends.
Which is why I’m here today. With two of them—the ones based in my city.
“Seriously—if I could just strangle him once a week, I’d be in a better place,” Sakshi grumbles quietly beside me. Eyeing Gautam opposite us.
We’re at a table—fries forgotten between us—arguing over the latest project. Gautam and Sakshi butt heads all the time, even though he’s our senior. But I feel a weird tension between them every time Gautam opens his mouth.
I mostly ignore it.
“What did you say, Ms. Sakshi?” He smiles through his glass.
She rolls her eyes before giving him a saccharine sweet smile. “Nothing, sir. I was telling her that I’m excited about our next project. You know—the one where you aren’t involved?”
I snort at her bluntness. Only she can manage to bait a man like Gautam.
I lean closer to Sakshi. “I’m getting another drink for myself.”
I grab a few fries off the plate, stuffing them in my mouth, and then I get up and walk over to the bar.
Solitude helps. I signal the bartender, requesting a refill on my Long Island iced tea.
Yep, I’ve become a basic Delhi bitch.
I’m sipping through the straw when I feel a presence next to me.
The man grabs a seat next to my bar chair, casually signaling the bartender pointing to my drink. Guess I won’t be paying for my drink tonight.
“That’s your favorite drink?” His voice rumbles next to me—too close.
I feel goosebumps rise on my hand that’s too damn close to his own. “Um... yeah. Newly developed taste.”
I turn my head and stare at him. His light beard is covering most of his face, a smirk positively hidden under the scruff. I smile back.
“You come here often?” he asks.
I raise a brow. “My first time. I’m here with my colleagues.”
His mouth forms an ‘o’. “Why are you here at the bar and not with them?”
I snort and nod in their direction. “They’re bantering right over there. Thought I’d give them some... privacy.”
He follows my gaze, a grin forming. “Giving me a chance to banter with a beautiful woman like you, huh?”
God! He’s flirting? Really?
I don’t push back. Instead, I push on. “Any topics you’d consider to banter with?”
He chuckles, the voice rich and musical. “How about... best meal? Like a dish or something? I’m very anal about it.”
I return his boyish grin with my own smug one. “I like... malai kofta.”
He gasps with mock-offense. “Really? C’mon! I thought you’d say something like...”
“Something like?” I ask when he trails off.
He smirks. “Like maybe bhindi.”
Now it’s my turn to gasp. “Bhindi? Are you fucking serious? I love the vegetable, but it doesn’t stand a chance against kofta, okay?”
He rolls his eyes, arms raised in surrender. “Fine! Fine. What about... favorite bar?”
“Well... we’re at this one. I’m guessing I should say this one?”
He grins. “Good answer. I own it, so you’d better.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “It was a trap, wasn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to my lips.
My whole face heats up with awareness. His knees grazing mine gently.
He smiles softly, looking into my eyes. “What’s your name?”
I beam at him, holding out my hand. “Greesha Pathan. Nice to meet you.”
His breath shudders as he stares at my outstretched hand. Then he takes it. His hand warm and soft.
“Nice to meet you, Greesha Pathan. I’m... Advik Sharma.”
I nod, smiling. The theatrics are over. It’s done, isn’t it?
I sought this bar out. And then he sought me out. We chose this.
I feel a sudden sting at the back of my throat. My eyes welling up slightly. I swallow the emotion.
This is it.
“Ready to start your quiet, boring, normal, beautiful life?” he whispers, voice cracking slightly.
I grin, a watery chuckle escapes me.
“I already started. Care to join me, Vik?”