Wrecked (Imperfectly Perfect #3)

Prologue

Nisha

This ends today.

Three words, and my heart slams against my ribs. Sitting at the edge of my bed, I stare at the message in my inbox once, then twice. But the more I read it, the more the threat pulses through me, making my body tremble uncontrollably.

Unable to bear the torture any longer, I snap the laptop shut and toss it aside. Leaning forward, I press my elbows to my knees and bury my face in my hands, fingers tangling in my hair, desperately trying to hold myself together as the questions begin to loop endlessly through my mind.

How did I let things spiral into this mess? How do I pull myself out of this? Is there even a way out of this?

I am still struggling for answers when a soft knock at the door cuts through the chaos in my mind. I look up and find Kavya standing in the doorway. And just like that, a sense of calm settles over me as my eyes meet my sister’s.

Kavya and I have always looked a lot alike—same warm brown eyes, the same long chestnut-brown hair that tumbles over our shoulders, and the same fair skin that flushes easily when we’re upset or excited.

Even though she’s four years older than me, we’ve grown up hearing people say we look like twins.

She steps into the room with a small smile and sits beside me. Her eyes drop to the suitcase by my feet, lingers there for a moment before drifting back to me. She studies me so intently, her steady gaze searching mine, making me gulp in nervousness.

“I know what’s bothering you,” she says softly.

At her words, every nerve in my skin bristles. Did she find out about...

But before I can open my mouth or even begin to string together an excuse, she continues. “I know you’re upset that I am not coming with you on this trip.”

My shoulders sag, and I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. The trip. Of course. She’s talking about the family trip we’re taking to celebrate my final results.

“I just… I can’t miss the interview, Nisha. It’s important. It’s the kind of opportunity I’ve been dreaming about for years,” she says, her voice laced with guilt.

I nod slowly, guilt coiling in my throat… a tight, choking knot born out of everything I am hiding from her. Yet somehow, I manage to push the words out, “I get it.”

Relief flashes in her eyes. “If it weren’t for this, I’d be there with you, Mom, and Dad to celebrate your top scores,” she whispers, her hand resting on mine. “I am so, so proud of you.”

She draws in a deep breath before giving my hand a squeeze. “I promise, when you’re back, we’ll celebrate properly. Just the two of us. Like we always do.”

That makes me smile, even if only faintly, as my mind pulls back the curtain of time.

I still remember how, as a little girl, I’d trail behind her in a lopsided braid, clutching a juice box.

How I always looked up to her, like she hung the stars in the sky.

How we shared every little secret, from failed exams to silly crushes, giggling under a blanket until midnight.

But now, I am hiding things from her, and it makes me feel horrible. God, how I wish life were still as simple as it was when we were little. When I could unburden my heart freely, without dreading the damage the truth might cause.

“I still remember,” I whisper, holding back the regret and clinging to the good memories, “that silly bracelet you made me when I turned ten. The one with the plastic heart beads.”

She grins, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You call it silly, but let’s not forget, you wore it everywhere. Even to school.”

I chuckle, tucking my legs beneath me on the bed and turning to face her. “You called it sisterhood magic. Said it would keep the nightmares away.”

“Didn’t it?” she asks.

I nod, the smile fading just slightly. If only those bracelets were strong enough to protect me even now, when I need it the most. Deep down, I know my sister has always been and will always be there for me, bracelets or not.

The real struggle is letting her in. It’s the one thing I just can’t seem to do.

“It wasn’t just the bracelet I had faith in,” I murmur, my mind spinning in circles. “It was you. You’ve always protected me, even when I made it hard for you.”

“Hey,” she says, tilting her head to catch my gaze. “Don’t go all sentimental on me. You know it’s an elder sister’s job to protect, even when the younger one makes it difficult. And that’s exactly what I am doing. It’s something I love doing, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

I stare at her. I don’t know how my sister always manages to get to me with just her words.

Even now, as I keep looking at her radiant face, I notice how her hair is pulled into a loose bun, with soft wisps gently framing her beautiful features, making her look every bit the caring, protective sister she’s always been.

And all of a sudden, my secrets sit at the tip of my tongue, aching to be set free.

“I am letting go of the trip,” I whisper, though what I really want is to confess and tell her about the mistake that has been eating me alive. But the words stay locked in my throat. Instead, I give her a small smile and say, “In a few days, I’ll be turning twenty-two.”

She nods. “I know.”

“And this birthday, I don’t want an expensive dress or fancy dinner.”

Her brows furrow slightly. “Okay. Then what do you want?”

“I want you to make me the same bracelet.”

She grins. “I can do that.”

I smile back at her, but beneath that smile, my secret thrums inside me like a second heartbeat I can’t control.

I am such a coward. I know I can’t confide in her, and so I hide behind the blind belief that this bracelet can somehow fix what I can’t.

But I guess that’s how we humans work—pray, hope, and cling to anything that makes us feel safe when everything else starts to fall apart.

When I realize I’ve been staring at her too long, I quickly try to wipe the panic from my face, but it’s too late. In the next moment, she cups my face with one hand and asks softly, “Hey, is something wrong?”

Her gaze is knowing, the one that makes me want to spill everything without her even asking.

But not this time. Not when I know my mess will only drag my sister down with me. I know she’d face it willingly, but she doesn’t deserve to. I won’t allow it.

I shake my head and lean into her, resting my head on her shoulder. “I hate that you won’t be there with us. I am going to miss you.”

She wraps an arm around me and rests her cheek on top of my head. “I will miss you too,” she murmurs. “But I promise, I’ll make your birthday unforgettable. You’ll see.”

I smile, and I am just about to say something when Mom’s voice cuts through the room, firm with that familiar warning tone that says, I’ve called once already; don’t make me call again.

“Kavya!”

I lift my head just as Kavya rolls her eyes.

“I’d better go before Mom decides to launch a full search party,” she says with a grin, standing up and smoothing the crease on her kurta.

She takes a few steps towards the door, then pauses and turns back to me. Her gaze lingers, and for a heartbeat, I almost… almost want to ask her to stay a little longer. But I don’t. I simply smile, swallowing the words that sit heavy in my throat.

“You’re going to have the best time, lil sis.” She smiles as she opens the door and steps out, closing it softly behind her.

The moment I am alone, I turn to glance back at the laptop, and my jaw tightens.

I need a closure. I can’t keep going like this. Once I’m back from this trip, I’ll meet him. It’s time to close this chapter once and for all.

With a long breath, I rise to my feet and look around.

My queen-size bed is a quiet mess—half-unpacked clothes, skincare bottles scattered everywhere, tangled wires of the charger, and a few of my favorite books lying open.

I crouch down and unzip my suitcase, double-checking everything inside.

Two pairs of jeans, three summer dresses, sunscreen, my phone, and Kavya’s hoodie, the one she gave me, and I never travel without.

But then my breath hitches when my eyes land on my journal. The one that holds all my secrets.

I slowly take the journal out, knowing I can’t take it with me. Turning to the nightstand, I open the drawer and tuck it inside. As I close the drawer, a heaviness settles over me. Some battles, I guess, are meant to be fought alone.

???

I sit in the backseat of our red Honda City, watching the trees blur into green smudges outside the window. The wind ruffles my hair through the half-opened glass, and there’s a playlist of old Hindi songs playing softly from the radio.

Sitting in the front are my parents, my dad, Ramesh Grewal, and my mom, Smita. His eyes focused on the road while Mom is reading out directions from her phone in that school-teacher voice she’s mastered over the years.

They’ve always been a perfect team. Just… solid.

Dad is a chartered accountant who’s spent years working long, tireless hours to give us a comfortable life.

The kind of man who wears neatly ironed shirts even on Sundays at home, not because he has to, but because that’s just who he is.

He’s not big on words, yet he’s never missed a parent-teacher meeting, never forgotten a birthday, and somehow always made sure the bills were paid on time.

Mom, on the other hand, is always immaculate, her sari always neatly pinned, her hair tied in a low bun.

She’s been teaching at the same school for fifteen years, believing with her whole heart that teaching is the noblest job there is.

And being the perfect Mom, she never did anything halfway.

She packed our tiffins like we were off to feed an army, not just attend a few hours of school.

What I admire most is that, even though they came from middle-class roots, from a world where marriages were arranged, love still found its way in as they grew old together.

Over the years, I watched Dad make tea for her when she stayed late grading papers, and Mom pressing his kurta before his audits.

That’s when I realized real love isn’t about grand gestures.

It’s about remembering how someone likes their chai.

“Are you okay, Nishu?” Mom asks, her warm smile breaking through my thoughts as she glances back at me.

I nod. “Just… thinking.”

Dad glances at me through the rearview mirror. “Missing Kavya?” he asks before adding, “We are missing her too.”

“I know,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around my knees. “It feels weird, going on a family trip without her.”

Mom turns around slightly, her seatbelt tugging at her shoulder. “You girls have always been like two halves of the same moon.”

That makes me smile.

“She promised to make the bracelet with her own hands for my birthday,” I say, smiling.

“That sounds just like Kavya,” Dad chuckles. “Your mother used to do that too… knitting me the ugliest scarves every winter when we first got married.”

Mom gasps, smacking his arm playfully. “Ugly? You wore them every day!”

“I wore them because I loved you,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

I laugh. A real one. And just like that, everything feels light again.

Until—

A blinding glare catches the corner of my eye. I turn my head to the left, and my heart lurches. I notice a truck barreling towards the intersection, too fast, too close, too sudden.

“Dad!” I scream, and suddenly, everything happens all at once. The screech of tyres, my mother’s gasp, my father yanking the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to avoid the collision. The car jerks violently, but it’s already too late.

The sickening crunch of metal fills the air as glass shatters around us, and the force of the impact hurls my body sideways.

My head slams hard against the window, and a sharp pain flashes through me.

In the next second, everything begins to blur.

I can’t focus on anything, except for the rapid pounding of my heart, drowning out the world until there’s nothing left. Just darkness.