Chapter 4
I have no idea what to do with this girl and her obsession with my clothes.
She took me shopping. Bought me clothes. Gave me a job. I have no idea how that happened—or why I didn’t stop her. I’m not jobless, and I’m absolutely not homeless. Yet here I am, letting her believe that I’m this poor, shirtless wanderer with nowhere to go.
I promised Roy I’d take care of his sister, but I didn’t sign up to be her chef.
After what she pulled in the kitchen last time—trying to recreate some recipe from a cooking show—let’s just say it’s a miracle the house is still standing.
She could easily burn the place down in minutes if she’s left unsupervised.
I’m not doing this for her. Definitely not.
I’m doing this to avoid the awkward—and frankly terrifying—conversation I’d have to have with Roy about why his house is now a pile of ashes. It’s pure self-preservation. Nothing else.
Not for her flustered “oops” or those wide eyes watching me like I’m a recipe she can’t figure out. Nope. Just damage control. A necessary intervention to prevent Roy from disowning both of us.
“Sir…” Justin said from the other end of the line as I picked up the call.
“What did I tell you about no calls today?” I said, rubbing my sleepy eyes.
“Sorry, sir… Rocky Mehra announced that—”
“What?” I cut him off, annoyed to be dealing with this right after waking up.
“He’s gunning for the London deal. Says he’ll screw you over…”
I clenched my jaw. “No calls till tomorrow. I said no calls,” I snapped, getting up from the sofa.
I checked my watch again. Shit… I had, like, one minute to meet the sheriff! I grabbed a T-shirt, pulling it on quickly.
I can’t roam around shirtless anymore. The last thing I need is anyone else offering to take me shopping again.
____________
Damn… these dreams. I hate these sleepless hours.
I woke up in the middle of the night and downed a bottle of water. A quick glance at the clock—2 AM. Great. I couldn’t sleep.
The silence pressed in too thick, the cottage too still. So I stepped outside, barefoot, letting the ocean breeze slap me awake.
The beach was quiet, moonlight streaking the water like silver threads. I walked toward it, not thinking—just trying to breathe through the weight I’d carried for two years.
Shivanya Patel.
Her name still felt like a bruise.
I stopped at the shoreline, eyes locked on the horizon. The waves kept coming. Relentless. Indifferent.
They asked if I had something to do with her disappearance.
They asked if I still planned to propose.
I had the ring.
She never saw it.
Last time I saw her, it was chaos.
And after that, just… nothing.
No goodbye. No closure.
Just headlines. Whispers. Accusations.
And no matter how tightly I shut my eyes or how deeply I tried to breathe, it didn’t stop. The memories come back—uninvited and relentless. Haunted memories.
The ocean whispered in the dark, waves lapping gently at the shore.
I found Kiara lying on a lounge chair, eyes closed, her feet swaying like she was floating between dreams.
“Good morning?” I said quietly.
She jumped, fumbling with her phone. “Holy shit—are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“I live here, remember?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe you're secretly the serial killer I hired as my chef.”
“Highly probable,” I said, sitting beside her. “You seem like the type who’d hire danger.”
She didn’t laugh. Just looked up at the stars. “Can’t sleep.”
“Me neither.”
A pause stretched between us—comfortable, like shared silence was something we were both starved for.
“Wanna play a game?” I asked.
She turned slowly. “Are we twelve?”
“Truth or dare.”
She blinked. “Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Keeps the insomnia interesting.”
“Fine. One round. Truth.”
I nodded. “Why do you always fidget with that bracelet?”
Her smile faltered. Fingers brushed the silver chain.
“It was my mom’s,” she said quietly. “She died the day I was born. I never met her.”
I stayed silent.
“Your turn,” she said quickly, trying to shift the weight.
“Dare.”
She tilted her head, and a wicked grin crept in. “Swim. Fifteen minutes.”
I blinked. “It’s 3 a.m.”
She simply crossed her arms and tilted her head. “You started the game… remember?”
“You do realize the water’s freezing, right?” I asked, trying to appeal to her logic—or whatever she had left at this ungodly hour.
“Yeah, I know the basic science, genius.”
She looked way too happy about the idea. Like this wasn’t just a dare—it was a distraction she needed.
I really need to stop playing this game. One day, she might dare me to vanish into space, and knowing her, she’d make it sound perfectly reasonable.
I stood up with a sigh. “If I die in there, you’re writing my eulogy.”
“Oh, already started: ‘Here lies Manav Oberoi—slain by saltwater and poor decisions.’”
I pulled off my shirt and walked toward the waves.
Behind me, her laughter danced in the night air—light and fleeting.
And for a moment, the ghosts were quiet.