EPILOGUE
Advik
TWO MONTHS LATER
“Oh and—uh—my girlfriend is also coming for the party,” I add casually, just before the call wraps up.
Vikram has been understandably excited for his daughter’s first ever New Year’s party and the family is having a huge one at my parents’ house.
What they don’t know is that I’m bringing Greesha. We’ve been dating again for almost two months now and I still can’t believe the level of love we’ve been able to share. The communication between us is new, but natural.
She’s been staying over at my place for the most part. And since my woman demanded the mattress change, I’d done it even before she set foot in my apartment this time around.
You know what I didn’t do? Change the mattress in the guest bedroom. Her old room during her “Aadya” days. She had rolled her eyes way too dramatically when she realized my ploy to get her to spend the night in my room.
“Why would I stay in the guest room, you idiot?” she’d said, causing my heart to race at an uncomfortable speed.
Turns out—I didn’t need to do any of that. She had wholeheartedly accepted our relationship. Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s here. With me. Sharing a life she had so painstakingly created.
We had talked about everything related to our past, without the restraint of our complicated circumstances during the mission last year. We effectively communicated every single detail.
We listened. We hurt. We healed. We’re still healing—together.
And all that led me to understand so much more about her. How her loving parents were taken from her. How her, reclaiming the last name wasn’t about a mere name change—it was a declaration of acceptance. Of becoming the woman she had promised to the fifteen-year old version of herself.
I am so damn proud of her.
But I hadn’t told anyone in my family who she was. Just that I had started dating. No one knew who I was seeing.
At first, it had quelled the questions from my relatives about finding “the one”. I was almost thirty-four. And they’d been getting antsy. So when they learned about me dating again, they were happy.
Then a month and a half in—they thought I was lying because they’d never met this elusive woman who had stolen my heart.
Then came the harmless jokes at my expense. I had laughed them off. But lately, I had been wondering why I was procrastinating Greesha meeting them.
And it took me less than an hour of thinking to understand that my family is nosey as fuck. So they’d bombard my woman with endless—maybe even uncomfortable—personal questions.
My main concern—I realized—was that the most common question around her family might cause issues. I didn’t want her to feel obligated to share anything that might upset her. And the very prominent scar on her face—that might raise questions too.
Which was why I had been spending the last week prepping my parents, their siblings, and a few family friends, to be respectful of her past. I hadn’t shared much—but I did tell them that my girlfriend’s parents had died a long time ago.
That her life had been hard. And neither her family or her scar was a proper topic of conversation with her.
They understood. Of course they did. I knew my family wouldn’t have any issue with that. But I’d rather prevent the intrusive interrogation before it even happened.
I want Greesha to have a wonderful time with my family. Because... they’ll be hers too. One day.
“Yaar! Viko! Enough. Tell me who she is.” I could hear his eye roll on the other end of the line. “I can’t believe you’re hiding her from me and Ishi.”
I chuckle at his impatience. There’s a reason I haven’t told them. Since they don’t need to be prepared—having already known Greesha—I wanted to surprise them.
“Bhai! You’re meeting her tomorrow. You can’t wait one day?”
He grumbles. “Fine. You talk about her like she’ll be Lavanya’s Chachi one day. I’d rather have Ishi stalk her beforehand, you know?” (Chachi = your father’s younger brother’s wife)
I laugh. “Don’t worry. She’s amazing. I promise you that.”
“Secretive asshole,” he groans. “Fine. And—oh—I’m getting chhole, so don’t bring that. Maybe like... bring snacks for the party.”
“Snacks? What the fuck—no! My girl is making this amazing masala gobhi. Trust me... you’d sell your first born for that,” I counter, eyeing the clock in my office that reads 5:26 p.m.
My GenVault hours have lowered down significantly in the past month. I’m only here for three days out of the week. Which helps because High on Happy needs me more often.
So today is my last day before my New Year’s week-long leave.
“Fine. But I’m not selling Lavi to you.” He pauses. “Okay, maybe. If it’s that good.”
I snort. “Moron. Listen I gotta pack up, Vicky. See you tomorrow, okay?”
“Fine!”
Just before hanging up, I add, “And you’d probably give her to me just for the recipe.”
I hear him cackle. “Whipped asshole!”
Whipped indeed.
??????
“What about this one?” Gree holds out an embroidered blue salwar suit, her eyes shaky and uncharacteristically nervous.
We’re getting ready for the New Year’s party at my parents’ house and I can clearly see she’s anxious about it.
My lips curve into a gentle smile. “It’s fine, my warrior ghost. You’ll look beautiful no matter what.”
“You’re no help,” she huffs and then jumps holding a tube of product. “Oh! I found this concealer online and tested it. It can hide—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I stopped her rant, enclosing her in my arms. “What did I just say? You. Are. Beautiful. That scar is from a life that got you back to me. So no—you won’t be hiding it when you’ve never hidden it whenever we go out.”
Her eyes squeeze shut. “It’s your family. I don’t want them to think—”
“They’re going to think that I’ve finally managed to convince the love of my life to be with me. You know how many questions I’ve skirted in the past four years?”
She raises a brow and I laugh.
“Too many, baby.” I hug her tighter, kissing her temple. “I promise. Whatever you wear, whatever type of makeup you put on, they’re eventually just going to see the amazing woman you are. Nothing else will matter.”
“Well...” She leans back and averts her eyes nervously. “If they’re anything like Vikram, I’m guessing it should be fine?”
I shrug. “My family will love you. I guarantee it. Now—”
I walk over to her closet in my bedroom. Yep, she’s claimed one side of my closet.
“What do you want to wear? Not what you think will look good for my parents.”
She looks at me like I’m certified. “Are you... stupid? I can’t wear whatever the fuck I want. It’s a family event and—”
“This one,” I cut her off and grab the fancy jumpsuit she recently bought because she loved the amount of pockets it had. “This looks hot, right?”
She stares at me incredulously. “You need serious help.”
I throw my head back, laughing at her antics. “If you knew how Navya, my cousin, dresses for such occasions—you’d be grabbing this in a heartbeat.”
She frowns, her expression speculative. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t I dress... like a sanskari Indian woman?”
I snort and hand her the jumpsuit. “You should dress like my Greesha.”
I take advantage of her occupied hands and press a lingering kiss to her lips before getting ready.
A simple shirt and jeans I had planned. She stares with a slightly horrified expression like I’m committing a crime.
I can’t blame her. She’s never been to my family’s events. And she doesn’t know that we dress casually—for the most part.
Grumbling her adorable mutterings, I watch her get ready. I’m completely distracted, and about two seconds away from pinning her to the nearest wall and kissing the frown off her face when my phone rings.
Fucking Vikram.
“Code red!” he yells the second I answer.
I jerk the phone away from my ear like it bit me. “Fuck, what?”
“I... I fucked up the chhole, bro. Like bad. It’s... inedible. Ishi was busy. So I tried. Fuck. Mom was counting on me. Shalini Maasi’s got the dal makhani. Can you bring something gravy-based? Shit. I had one job. Shit. Shitshitshitshit.”
I groan and slap him onto speaker as I button my shirt. “Okay. Breathe. Order it from Rajinder Dhaba. It’ll take like... thirty minutes.”
Greesha gives me a look. “Who is it?”
Before I can answer, Vikram goes full banshee. “Wait. Wait. Who was that? Was that—?”
“Shut up,” I snap. “Just order the damn chhole.”
There’s a pause. And then he gasps like a drama queen at intermission.
“IS THAT GREESHA? OH MY GOD. ISHIKAAAA!”
I wince. “Stop. Don’t—don’t tell her anything. It was supposed to be a surprise, chutiye.”
“Fine, fine,” he says, clearly grinning. “But holy shit. Bhai. I’m... happy for you.”
I can hear the smile in his voice now, and despite everything, it hits me in the chest.
“I can’t wait to meet you, my future sister-in-law,” he adds.
Greesha laughs.
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too. Can’t help it. I really want her to meet them all.
“I’ll see you in an hour, fucker.” I hang up, exhaling. And that’s when I notice Greesha.
She’s standing there with this dangerous smirk. “Was I supposed to be a surprise?”
I groan at the ceiling.
“You know I wondered why you never had Vikram or Ishika come over.” She giggles.
I finally look her. She’s... taking off the jumpsuit she just spent five minutes buttoning up. Her gorgeous, tattooed, masterpiece of a body unwrapping like my own, personal gift from the universe.
I give her a wry smile and step forward. “Hate to say this, but you’re doing the exact opposite of gift-wrapping yourself up.”
WRONG WORDS.
In a blink, I get tackled. The only way to describe the next three seconds is: I was mauled. By my panther. And mauled, I shall be.
And thank god for it.
Because the party can fucking wait. The masala gobhi is ready and packed.
But this? This is code goddamn green.