I pick up the empty glass of whiskey from the counter, grip it tight for a second, then toss it across the room. It clatters against the floor.
“I’m done here,” I say, before grabbing the ring and turning away. “This conversation is over.”
And with that, I walk away, leaving them all to sit in the wreckage they created.
Chapter 39
Sana
Pulling up in front of the pharmacy just around the corner from my house, I shift the gear into park and step out of the car. Just as I push the door shut behind me, my phone buzzes in my hand. I glance down, half-expecting another update from Mili. She’s at home, keeping an eye on Mom while I stepped out. I didn’t want Mom to be alone… not after everything that’s happened. And Mili, being Mili, didn’t even let me finish asking before she said she’d stay. I trust her completely. Still, my heart tugs with guilt for stepping away for a while, even if it’s just to pick up her medicines.
But when I see the screen, it’s not Mili. It’s Aditya. And just like that, my chest tightens. I swipe open the message, my breath catching as a mix of emotions floods through me all at once.
Aditya:Sana, please… I’m so sorry for everything. What my mom said—what she did—you didn’t deserve any of it. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve protected you. I hate that I didn’t. I’ve never felt so helpless… or ashamed. Please talk to me. Just once. Let me explain. Let me make it right. I miss you.
I stare at the words, hoping they might somehow ease the dull ache in my chest, but instead, they only make it worse. Eachline feels like a voice from a place I miss but am scared to go back to. The pain spreads, seeping through the parts of me I’ve been trying so hard to keep from breaking.
I let out a shaky breath and turn off the screen with trembling fingers, knowing all too well this won’t be the last message. Not even close. For the past three days, ever since Mom came home from the hospital, Aditya hasn’t stopped trying. The messages keep coming. So do the calls. Morning, afternoon, late into the night. A constant stream of apologies and pleas I just couldn’t bring myself to answer.
Not because I didn’t want to hear his voice. God, I did. More than I cared to admit. But because I didn’t know what I would even say if I did. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was his mother’s face, twisted with disgust. Her hateful words still lingered, burning beneath my skin like acid, leaving a sting that just wouldn’t fade. And every time his name lit up on my screen, it dragged me back to that awful moment when I had to hold my mother’s limp, unconscious body in my arms, not knowing if she’d wake up again.
And it wasn’t fair. None of it was.
But it happened.
I slip my phone into my purse and wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold everything together. But my mind drifts back to those sleepless nights I spent by my mom’s bedside, brushing strands of hair from her forehead, holding her hand, and whispering prayers into the quiet. She’s stable now—thank God for that—but the fear, the weight of those long hours still presses against my chest. A constant reminder that life can change in an instant. And no matter how many times Aditya’s messages flood my phone, or how much I want to reach out to him, I know deep down that this isn’t something he can fix. His presence doesn’t erase the pain, nor does the fear that still holds me.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear the sharp click of heels on the pavement until a familiar voice cuts through, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Well, well… what a surprise,” she drawls, her eyes skimming over me from head to toe.
I don’t reply. Instead, my lips press into a tight line as my eyes meet Samantha’s. I’ve only seen her once before, back at my café, but even once was enough. And as much as I hate to admit it, even with her cold, calculating personality, she looks picture-perfect. Her sleek hair falls perfectly around her face, a designer bag hangs effortlessly over one shoulder, and her lips are painted in a shade of red so bold it almost stings to look at.
“Dark circles? Oh, poor you,” she says, glancing at me with feigned sympathy before adding, “I guess the stress is finally catching up, huh? All that drama must be exhausting.” She casually smooths back her hair, her voice laced with arrogance. “I just came from the spa—massage, facial, the works. It felt amazing. You should try it sometime... though I guess it’s hard to squeeze in me-time when your life is falling apart.”
“Can we not do this here?” I mutter, keeping my tone even, not giving her the reaction she’s clearly hoping for.
She raises an eyebrow. “Why not? I think this is the perfect place for it. You see, I find it fascinating—how you wormed your way into Aditya’s life. I mean, you’re nothing like the girls he usually dates. Not even close. But then again, maybe that’s the trick you played to land the rich one.”
I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to snap back at her.
“Play the modest girl, the untouched one, so unlike anyone he’s ever been with, catching his interest. Act all sweet and innocent, like you don’t care about anything except him. It’s brilliant, really.” She pauses, her smirk widening. “But you know what’s even more brilliant?” she says, her voice dripping withmalice. “How easy it is to fool people when they’re desperate to believe you.”
My jaw tightens. “I didn’t fool anyone. And I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Her face twists into a mock expression of sympathy. “Of course you don’t, darling. But let me explain something to you. His parents want someone like me. Someone who fits. And whether Aditya wants me or not doesn’t really matter. Eventually, he’ll just have to accept me.”
I let out a sharp breath, meeting her gaze without flinching. “You can keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But I don’t care what his parents want or what games you’re playing. Because at the end of the day, Aditya’s heart isn’t something you can buy or force your way into. And that’s what is really eating you up, isn’t it?”
Her face twists for just a moment, barely a flicker of the mask slipping. But then she throws her head back and lets out a low, bitter laugh.
“Oh, please,” she scoffs, her eyes narrowing as they burn into mine. “Do you think I want his heart?” She takes a step toward me, venom lacing her every word now. “I hate him. Do you hear me? I hate him for rejecting me. For making me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I was… disposable.”
Her voice sharpens, the bitterness no longer masked. “I don’t want his love anymore,” she spits, her voice full of hatred. “I want revenge. I want to break him. I want to watch him suffer. And the best part?” She lets out a cruel smile. “His parents are so blinded by their pride that they can’t see past their own illusions. I’ve got his parents wrapped around my little finger. Even now, all it took was dragging Aditya’s mom to the spa, pretending to care about her and she lapped it up like I actually gave a damn. How foolish she is. How foolish they both are. They think they’ve found the perfect girl for their son—someone polished,presentable, from the ‘right’ family.” She curls her fingers into mocking air quotes. “What they don’t know is that they’re practically handing me the keys to ruin his life, and they don’t even realise it. That’s how stupid they are. And trust me, once I am in, I’ll make sure Aditya regrets every moment he turned his back on me.” Her eyes gleam with twisted satisfaction. “I am going to make sure he never forgets what choosing you cost him.”
And just then, as if pulled by some unseen force, my gaze slips past Samantha’s shoulder… and lands on her.Aditya’s mom.
She’s standing just a few feet away, still as a stone. Her posture is tense, her arms folded tightly across her chest, and her eyes… they’re locked on us with a sharp, unreadable intensity. My pulse spikes in an instant, a chill creeping down my spine as the weight of her presence settles in.
