Aditya runs a hand through his hair. “Fine. You want me to walk away? To end this?” His jaw tightens. “Then tell me one thing.” He leans in slightly, his fingers brushing over my lips. “Can you really let another man kiss you? Give him the part of you that was mine?”
My breath hitches, but I don’t move. I don’t waver. I hold his gaze and say the one thing I know he doesn’t want to hear.
“Yes.” I lie.
Something flickers in his eyes—hurt, anger, disbelief. His hands drop to his sides as he steps back, as if I just physically struck him.
“Miss Sana Arora.” His voice is hollow now, stripped of its usual fire. “You win for now. But don’t mistake it for my total defeat.”
And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving me standing there, my heart heavy in my chest.
I realize too late that in pushing him away, I’ve only ended up hurting the one man I ever truly loved.
Chapter 22
Aditya
With my pulse thundering in my ears, I shove open the bathroom door and stride toward the washbasin. My hands shake as I twist the faucet. Leaning forward, I cup the cold water and splash it onto my face, hoping desperately that it will cool the fire raging inside me.
But it doesn’t.
Gripping the edge of the basin, I drop my head, squeezing my eyes shut. The drive home had been hell—my mind replaying the sight of her over and over again. Sana, on top of that bastard, his hands on her. Even though I know it means nothing, it doesn’t help. It doesn’t stop the ugly grip of possessiveness that chokes me. And the fucking worst part? It doesn’t stop the raw, gut-wrenching ache of watching her shove me away, over and over—like I’m nothing. Like forgetting me is too easy. Like I never even mattered.
I lift my head and stare at my reflection in the mirror—jaw clenched, chest rising and falling as if I ran a marathon, and eyes burning with rage and heartbreak.
“Damn it!” I roar and drive my fist into the mirror. The glass shatters with a deafening crack, shards raining down as my reflection splinters, fractured and broken. Just like me.
I lower my head again, my heart beating rapidly. A ragged breath drags through my lungs, but it does nothing to steady me. The ache, the frustration, the sheer helplessness coils tighter inside me like a vice. I squeeze my eyes shut, my fist throbbing, but the pain in my hand is nothing compared to the one tearing through my chest.
I pull my phone from my jeans pocket, my grip tightening as I scroll to Ranveer’s name and hit call. The line rings once, twice then his voice comes through.
“Yo, what’s up?”
“Feel like a drink?” My voice is rougher than I intended, but I don’t bother fixing it.
Ranveer doesn’t hesitate or question my shitty mood. Instead, his reply comes instantly. “Yeah, sure.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen.” I don’t wait for a response. I just hang up.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I march into my room, snatch up my car keys from the side table, and march out of the house. The cool night air hits my face the moment I step outside—but it does nothing to calm me.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I slam my foot on the accelerator and move out of my parking spot. The silence in the car is deafening—but my mind isn’t.
It’s still back there.
Still stuck on her.
Still burning with the sight of her in someone else’s arms.
I tighten my grip on the wheel, my jaw locking.Just focus on the drive. Just fucking focus. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I need. Then I can drown this feeling, drown the ache threatening to consume me whole with the burn of whiskey.
Minutes later, I pull up in front of Ranveer’s house just as he steps out the door. Without missing a beat, he slides into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a thud. He barely has his seatbelt on before he turns to me, his eyes sharp with curiosity.
“Alright, man, spill. What’s wrong?”
I don’t answer right away. I just start the car, staring straight ahead as my mind spins, struggling to make sense of the chaos raging inside me. Finally, I let out a heavy breath and say the only name that’s been tearing me apart.
“Sana.”
