Jai’s face lights up with triumph. “Now we’re talking. How about I make you coffee?”
I arch an eyebrow. “You?”
He shrugs. “Maybe my coffee won’t be as good as yours, but I sure as hell can try.”
“I won’t say no.”
“One cup of coffee coming right up,” he says as he rises to his feet and walks out of the room.
Once I’m alone, the earlier scene replays in my mind, every hurtful word echoing painfully in my ears. Aditya’s mom’s accusations, the contempt in her eyes—it all rushes back. I close my eyes, my chest tightening as I struggle to breathe through the hurt.
My phone vibrates, pulling me from the spiral. I glance at it to see Aditya’s name flashing on the screen. My heart clenches as I hit ‘reject,’ but it buzzes again and again. Each time, I keep pressing decline. I can’t talk to him. Not right now. I turn off my phone and toss it onto the couch beside me. Leaning back, I press my palms to my face, trying to pull myself together.
The next moment, the door opens, and I straighten up. I look up to see Jai walk back in, holding two cups of coffee. He silently hands me one of the cups before sitting beside me.
Thankful for the distraction, I take a small sip, letting the warmth of the coffee soothe me, if only for a moment.
“Well?” Jai asks, his eyes waiting for my verdict.
I glance over at him, my lips curling slightly. “I must say this is incredible. Probably the best coffee I’ve ever had.”
“Well, thank you,” he beams back before his expression turns sincere. “Listen, I know this might sound a bit cheesy, but... if you ever need someone to talk to, as a friend... I’m here. No questions, no judgments. Just... here.”
I look at him, and just then, Aditya’s face flashes through my mind. I think of the way I trusted him. The way it fell apart. The pain is still too raw, too real. But something about Jai feels different—uncomplicated, genuine. He truly is a friend.
A lump rises in my throat, but I manage a small smile. “Thank you, Jai... I could really take you up on your offer of friendship.”
Jai’s face lights up at my reply, and soon we fall into a more casual conversation. Jai’s light humour and easy-going nature chip away the heaviness weighing on my heart. For a moment, I almost forget the pain... almost.
But even as the conversation flows, I make a decision. Whatever this was with Aditya—whatever hopes I had—it’s over before it even truly began.
That chapter is closed. Finished. Done.
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 thetension 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?”
