Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
Advik
‘Care to join me, Vik?’
Her words are still pulsing within me with every beat of my heart. It wasn’t a question. It was a choice.
A choice she made. And it was me.
She left her colleagues after a quick goodbye—asking me to follow her in my car. I was in awe when I noticed she still rode her motorcycle. But it was a new one. A lower CC by the looks of it.
The moment I enter her apartment, I’m taken apart by the things that look familiar but also new. She’s a blend of everything coming alive through her home.
She sheepishly walks over to her open kitchen. Sheepishly—a word I never thought I’d associate with Greesha Das.
Fuck, she’s Greesha Pathan now. I wonder what made her choose that last name.
“Pathan?” I ask casually. But inside I’m burning with anticipation.
I’m with her. In her apartment. Dammit, I can’t find a better position to fucking adjust myself in my pants. She’s watching me like a hawk.
A year later, and she’s still the only person that can make me flustered by a mere look. Fuck... her mere presence.
“It was...” Her smile softens. “My parents last name. I changed it to Das when I was eighteen to hide from their families. It... didn’t work.”
I frown at the sudden hardening of her expression. There’s a story there. I know it.
“One day you’ll tell me?” My question is a plea.
She nods, still smiling.
I pick up a throw pillow from her couch, watching the design etched on it. Blue and yellow stripes, with an image of a star forming with the waves in the lines. It’s so un-Greesha-like that I find myself wondering how much she’s changed.
She seems different.
If not for her scar, I wouldn’t have thought I was talking to the same woman. She’s lighter. More expressive with her eyes. It’s almost like they’ll give away her entire life if I ask the right question.
The thought stops me short.
I don’t know her. Not entirely.
But the fact that she’s willing to share—sometime in the future—is a lifeline I’ll carry.
The fact that I’ve been invited into the life she imagines for herself—is my anchor.
Putting the pillow back, I take purposeful steps toward her. She’s casually pouring wine into a glass. The second glass still empty.
“I... won’t be drinking,” I tell her, causing her to freeze.
She frowns at me. “You don’t drink? You... you and your brother own a fucking bar!”
My eyes widen, a smile cracking through. “That is right. I still avoid it though. It interferes with my meds. But... how do you—”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh please! I know what you’ve been up to.”
I smirk, settling my forearms on the counter. “Do you, now? And... what all do you know?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Everything that I need to. As for me? I quit the force and rejoined SentinelOne as a senior investigator. I own a motorcycle. I own this apartment as well. I do therapy once a week.”
I’m trying to hide my shock as the information settles in my bones. But she doesn’t stop.
“I can tolerate your coffee machine, but I like French press better. If you ever want me to stay over or move in, we gotta change your stupid mattress. It’s too hard.
And I have approximately... 23 lacs in my savings.
” My eyes bulge out as she continues. “My malai kofta skills have improved, but I think I’m better at matar paneer and chicken biryani.
I will never—ever—remove Pathan from my name. Pathan-Sharma is the most I can offer.”
My arms slip from the counter, leaving me fumbling like an idiot.
Fucking hell! What is happening?
I’m struggling to breathe but she doesn’t care. She’s looking me right in the eyes as she continues the brutal, magnificent assault on my heart.
“Oh, I still don’t like sugar in my coffee. But I’ve switched from cream to oat milk. It’s—eh—better? I think?”
She circles the counter and stops right in front of my stupidly gaping face. “And one more thing...”
I nod—at least I think I do.
“I can’t have kids. I have Asherman’s Syndrome from my time with... Karim.”
Air abandons my whole body. The room tilts on its axis. Not because I’m fearing a future. But because she gave something up—knowingly.
For the first time, she’s willingly letting me see the pain she’s been carrying from her time in Afghanistan. She’s letting me understand the grief. The consequences. But she’s also telling me because her present affects... both of us.
Fuck. Both of us.
The pain is quickly washed over by content. I’m hers. She needs me to know this because I. Belong. To her.
My beautiful vision of her face quickly blurs. I blink away the tears and will my clogged throat to work. She’s looking at me with so much heartache and expectation that my knees are beginning to give up.
“Do...” I croak and clear my throat. “Do you want kids, baby?”
She sighs, a sad smile still marring her face.
“Yeah. But... there’s only a few ways to do it.
I’ll have to get surgery, get the scarring in my uterus fixed so I can carry.
Or we get a surrogate. Or... or maybe adoption?
I don’t know. Everything has risks and logistics involved.
I could still miscarry if the surgery goes well, or if—”
“Hey! Hey, hey, hey.” I stop her rambling, my voice gentle yet firm. I cup her face, giving her a reassuring smile. “Let me rephrase. Do you want to carry? Or do you just... want us to be parents?”
Her eyes well up at my question. A broken sob escapes her.
“T-the s-second one,” she manages to rasp.
I smile down at her as I nod, wiping away the tears streaking down her cheeks. She does the same and I realize we’ve never been this way before.
Both of us, healing. Planning. Ready.
“Then we’ll have just that,” I tell her. Her whole body shudders with realization.
That I’m not going anywhere. There’s absolutely nothing in this goddamn world that will pull me away. Nothing.
I’m aching for her. So I don’t fucking wait. I crash my mouth on hers. She clings to me instantly.
“I love you,” she says as she comes up for air for a moment. “I love you, Advik. I promise.”
I press my forehead against hers. “I know, baby. And I love you. In your absence. In your presence. In the silence. And even in the storm. I love you, Gree. I promise.”
I swallow her sobs with my mouth. Her legs instinctively wrapping around mine as I lift her to the counter.
My heart finds peace within the shallow, mingled breaths of ours. Our lips entangle with silent vows. I have her.
And she? She has me for eternity.