Chapter 20
Aditya
I hit the call button again as I drive through the chaotic traffic, only to be met with the same annoying message—switched off.
My blood pressure spikes instantly. Where the hell is Sana, and why is her phone off?
When I meet her, I’m so going to give her a piece of my mind about how worried I was when I couldn’t get through to her.
And she better not have her phone switched off ever again—at least not without informing me.
As I turn into the narrow road, my thoughts drift back to the exhausting meeting.
I had been so caught up handling the investors’ issues that I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.
Still, the moment it ended, I had hoped to see a reply to my message or at least a missed call from her. But there was nothing.
And since then, the nagging feeling that something isn’t right hasn’t left me.
Her disconnecting my call and then switching off her phone has only added to the turmoil.
What could have possibly happened in just a few hours for her to completely shut me out?
Then again, maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe she’s just busy, and my instincts are playing tricks on me.
I feel a wave of relief as I finally pull up in front of her café.
Just knowing that I will get to see her eases some of the tension that’s been weighing on my chest. At least now, I’ll get the answers behind her silence, something to finally calm this anxiety.
More importantly, I’ll get to talk to her.
To tell her that we have to take the next step in our relationship, or at the very least, let everyone know that we’re together. It’s time.
With that thought, I push open the door to the café and step inside. My eyes instinctively search for her, sweeping over the tables and landing on the counter.
But she’s not there.
Instead, I see Mili standing behind the counter. Her eyes lock onto mine in a sharp, almost accusing glare that makes my stomach drop, confirming every fear that has been gnawing at me since the moment I couldn’t reach Sana. Something is definitely not right.
I walk up to the counter as Mili’s eyes stay fixed on me, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her glare hasn’t softened—if anything, it has only grown colder.
“Where’s Sana?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady even though anxiety churns inside me.
“Why do you care?” she shoots back, her tone sharp enough to cut through steel.
I blink, taken aback. “What’s wrong? What’s with that tone?”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “Probably because you deserve it.”
My chest feels tight. Mili’s never spoken to me like this before. Not with such anger, such disappointment. Whatever’s going on, it’s serious, and she clearly blames me for it. But I don’t have time to play guessing games.
I place my hands on the counter and lean in, my voice firm. “I’m not here for riddles, Mili. Just tell me where she is.”
She hesitates, her jaw tightening. For a moment, I think she’s going to tell me to get lost, but then her shoulders slump.
“She’s at the orphanage,” she says, her voice quieter now.
I exhale in relief, but it’s short-lived as Mili continues, “She’s not in a good frame of mind... she’s upset. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone why, and I’m keeping that promise. But...” She pauses, her eyes locking onto mine, “I trust you to make it right.”
I nod, nerves twisting inside me. Whatever it is, whatever’s hurting Sana, I need to be there for her. Without another word, I turn on my heel and walk out of the café.
I barely register the noise of the vehicles around me as I get back into my car and start the engine. The drive to the orphanage feels like a blur, my mind racing with questions. What’s going on? What could’ve upset her this much? And why didn’t she tell me?
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. This has to stop. Sana needs to learn to let me in instead of shutting me out. Whatever’s bothering her, we’ll face it together. And once I make sure she’s okay, we’re definitely having that conversation. No more hiding. No more secrets. No more walls.
Forty minutes later, I pull up in front of the orphanage. Sitting in the car, I look around, my eyes scanning the area. The place looks quiet, almost deserted, with the sun dipping low, casting long shadows across the courtyard.
And then, I see her. I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.
She’s sitting on a weathered wooden bench outside the orphanage building with her back facing me. Her shoulders are slumped as she stares off into the distance.
Taking a deep breath, I step out of the car and make my way towards her. Even the few steps feel like an eternity, the distance between us somehow too far.
I want to call out to her, to say something to make her turn and smile at me, but the words die in my throat.
Instead, I take slow steps towards her, closing the space between us, hoping that my presence alone will be enough to pull her out of whatever darkness she’s lost in.
I stop a few steps behind her, taking in the way her fingers are clenched together tightly on her lap, her back rigid.
She looks so small, so vulnerable, and it makes my chest tighten painfully.
Taking slow, deliberate breaths, I steel myself before quietly walking up to the bench. When I stand beside her, she doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch — completely unaware of my presence. Unbuttoning my coat, I lower myself onto the bench next to her.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice soft.
She jerks at the sound of my voice. Her head snaps towards me, her eyes wide in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“You don’t get to ask questions right now,” I reply, holding her gaze. “I asked you first—what’s wrong? Answer that.”
She opens her mouth, then shuts it again, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions—confusion, anger, and something like... pain. Her shoulders tense, and for a second, she looks like she’s about to bolt, but then she lets out a shaky breath.
“What’s wrong, Sana? Please tell me. Don’t shut me out like this,” I beg her, hoping she tells me whatever she’s been keeping bottled up.
There’s a long, aching pause. “I... I… I don’t want to see you again,” she says hesitantly, trying her best to keep her voice cold and distant. “And we should put a stop to all this right now. It’s better this way.”
Her words stab through me, and I stare at her, stunned. Then anger quickly rises to the surface. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She exhales slowly, her guarded eyes fixed on me, her pale face unreadable.
“You knew from the beginning... I wasn’t ready for this.
I told you I didn’t want complications. And now.
.. now that I’ve thought about it, I know it’s the right choice.
I don’t even know what it was, but whatever it was, it’s done between us. ”
I stare at her, disbelief tightening my throat. “You didn’t just say that. What about everything we feel for each other, Sana? The way we fit, the way we—” I stop, the memory of our kiss flooding back, the heat, the electricity. “What about the moments we’ve shared? Our kiss—wasn’t that special?”
She flinches, but her voice is cold when she answers. “Don’t tell me you expect a relationship with every woman you kiss.” Her words are sharp, like knives. “That was a mistake. A moment of weakness... and it won’t happen again.”
My blood boils, anger mixing with hurt. “A mistake? That’s what you’re calling it?” I can feel my control slipping. “Don’t you dare insult my feelings for you and don’t you dare tell me that was a mistake or a fucking moment of weakness.”
“Then you call it whatever you want. A misjudgment. A fling. But it doesn’t change anything. The truth is I don’t want this.”
I clench my fists, my heart pounding furiously. “Is it so easy for you to end it just like that, with the snap of a finger? After everything… you’re just going to pretend it meant nothing?”
Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I see her mask crack, pain flickering across her face before she looks away. “It meant nothing.”
The finality in her voice knocks the breath out of me. What the hell? How did we even end up here? How did I lose her before I even had her?
I run a hand through my hair, frustration boiling over. “Dammit, Sana! Why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”
She stiffens, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the ground. “There’s nothing to tell. I’ve made up my mind. And nothing can change that.”
“These are not your words.” I snap, my voice rising. “You’re lying. I can see it in your eyes. Just... stop shutting me out and talk to me!”
She squeezes her eyes shut, her shoulders trembling. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” I urge, my tone softer this time.
Silence. Her lips press into a thin line, her fists clenching in her lap. It’s like she’s battling with herself, fighting to keep something buried deep inside.
Then, like a lightning bolt, a thought hits me, and my mom’s face flashes before my eyes. Her anger, her disapproval, the way she got to know of Sana… and worst of all, her ultimatum to break things off with Sana. My heart drops, dread curling in my stomach.
I take a shaky breath. “Is it... my mom?”
Sana’s body goes rigid as her wide eyes lock onto mine. She doesn’t respond—she doesn’t need to. The look on her face says it all.
I feel my blood boil, anger and protectiveness flaring up inside me. “What did she say to you?” I grit out, my voice trembling with fury. “What the hell did she do to make you break things off with me?”
She shakes her head, biting down on her lip. “It doesn’t matter. She’s right. I should’ve known better.”
“Known better?” I repeat, my hands balling into fists.
“Known better what? That breaking things off is the better solution?” My voice cracks.
“I thought you would stand by me through any storm, that no matter what came our way, we’d face it together.
But just one setback, one encounter and you’ve already given up.
You didn’t even stop to think that what we have is worth fighting for. ”
For a fraction of a second, I see her resolve crumble just a bit but then she masks it. “I’m being realistic,” she says, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her eyes. “Some things aren’t meant to be, no matter how much we want them. And holding on to it will only make it worse.”
“Realistic?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Is that what you call walking away without even trying? Because to me, it sounds like fear. It sounds like you’ve already decided we’re not worth the fight.”
Her shoulders slump in defeat. “I don’t want any complications. I don’t want people to get hurt. And I definitely can’t be the right person for you—for your family.”
My heart shatters at her words. “You don’t get to decide that,” I say, my voice raw. “You don’t get to decide that you’re not the right person for me.”
Her eyes glisten with tears, but she quickly blinks them away. “This... us... it just wasn’t meant to be. It was only a dream—one that’s over now. It was never real.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that.” I shake my head, my voice breaking. “It is real. It is the most real thing I’ve ever felt.”
She closes her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek before she wipes it away. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “But it’s over.” Her voice trembles as she whispers, “If you ever felt anything for me... then please, move on from me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but no sound comes out. I want to fight with her, to scream that she’s wrong, that I could never move on from her. But the look in her eyes... it’s empty, shattered, pleading. And I know then—no argument, no confession, no plea will reach her now.
Fuck, I’ve never felt this powerless.
She stands up, her back to me, shoulders trembling as if she’s barely holding herself together. I don’t move. I just stand there, watching her walk away, each step pulling her further away from me. I let her go, knowing she needs this space, for now.
The moment she slips into her car and drives away, only one thought burns fiercely in my mind—I won’t let her go. Not ever.
I know she’s hurting, that she’s scared. And somewhere deep down, she truly believes this is the only way.
But she’s wrong. We’re not over. Not by a long shot.
If she needs space, I’ll give it to her. If she needs time, I’ll wait.
But moving on? Forgetting her? That’s never going to happen.
I clench my fists, resolve hardening in my chest. I’m not giving up on us—not when I know she feels the same way.
Sana needs to come to terms with the fact that what we have isn’t some fleeting thing you can forget with a snap of your fingers.
What we have is a bond that’s strong—one that won’t break no matter how messy or twisted things get.
We don’t get to just walk away. We’re built for each other — forever.
And I’m here, ready to prove it every single damn day.