The flashes of cameras were almost blinding, and the chatter was a low hum that I couldn’t quite drown out.
I wore a serene smile as I posed for pictures, my chiffon saree flowing gracefully around me, the fabric soft yet heavy with embroidery. To everyone around me, I must have seemed radiant and composed, the perfect author launching her latest work. But inside, I was a mess.
The truth was, I was smiling, but it felt as fragile as glass. Every photo, every handshake, and every autograph felt like a performance. My heart wasn’t here—it was somewhere else entirely. Or rather, with someone else.
Manav.
My body was at the venue, but my soul was elsewhere. My heart was still in his kitchen, laughing over his terrible potato jokes, stealing bites of cucumbers, and savoring the feeling of belonging I’d found in his arms.
I needed an escape. Moving to the bar, I picked up a glass, praying for once that drunk Kiara would take over and silence the noise in my head.
After three drinks, I still didn’t feel any different. It was all the same—same hurt, same pain, same guilt. The worst part is that I don’t know how to fix it. Or maybe I do, but at this moment, all I want is to escape—escape the lights, the bright night, the reporters swarming me every few minutes, and the production house already eager to turn my novel into a movie.
I sat on a nearby stool, closing my eyes and letting the noise around me fade. My thoughts drifted to him, to Manav. I could almost feel my hands on his collar, fidgeting as they always did, his breath hitching before he murmured, “Kiara…” The way his nose would find its place in my hair, staying there until I teased him about it.
I haven’t had breakfast in a week. I haven’t slept in my bed since it all fell apart. His breath, his scent, his warmth, his arms—they’re all haunting me, and I can’t seem to survive without him. I can’t breathe. I can’t function. I need… him.
Yes, he hurt me. He hurt Dadi. He broke my trust. What he did was unforgettable, unforgivable, and yet, I can’t let go. I can’t stop this ache in my chest. I need to… I need to…
I miss him. I miss him. I hate him for making me miss him.
“Congratulations…” a voice broke through my haze, pulling me back to the present. I opened my eyes and saw Meeta, with Kartik and Sasha following close behind.
“Thanks,” I managed to whisper, my voice so faint I wasn’t sure if they heard me. Not that it mattered. My eyes were busy scanning the crowd, searching for him—Manav Oberoi. The man who had unknowingly turned my life upside down. When I hired him as a chef, how could I have known I was hiring a permanent source of heartbreak?
Meeta hugged me, and as her arms wrapped around me, a tear slipped down my cheek. She whispered, “He says… Congratulations.”
I quickly wiped my face before anyone could notice. Kartik pulled me into a brotherly hug, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath, “I can’t decide which one of you is the bigger idiot.”
I couldn’t fall apart here—I forced a shaky smile, brushing my hands down the saree as if the action could somehow smooth out the chaos inside me.
Meeta’s eyes softened, but I stepped back, unwilling to let them see how close I was to crumbling. My gaze drifted to the crowd again, hoping for a glimpse of him, though I knew he wasn’t there. He couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be.
Manav wasn’t just a memory I could brush off or a mistake I could regret. He was the air in my lungs, the quiet in my storms, and even in his betrayal, he still felt like mine.
Or at least, that’s what my heart kept insisting—even when I knew better.
Or at least that was what my heart insisted on believing.
“How is he…?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Meeta and Kartik exchanged glances before Kartik sighed, his voice heavy. “He’s drowning himself in work—back-to-back meetings, endless tasks. I haven’t seen him take a nap all week.”
“Oh, and let’s not forget how unbearable he’s become,” Sasha added, swirling her wine dramatically. “Everything’s breaking him from the inside out, and he’s making sure everyone around him feels it too.”
I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. My gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the stars blurred into a hazy mess against the distant city lights. Somewhere out there, he was hurting too, as much as I was—or maybe even more.
I didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that the air in the room felt heavier, thicker, and my chest was tightening with every second. The walls seemed to close in, the noise around me a dull hum against the roar of my heartbeat.
Without a word, I grabbed my purse and stumbled toward the exit, ignoring the worried voices of Myra and Meeta calling after me.
I needed to escape. I needed to find air. I needed him.
30 ♥?Manav
“Mr. Oberoi… Vihaan Singhania has been taken care of. He won’t so much as glance in Ms. Randhawa’s direction again.” Alex’s tone was crisp yet professional, as he held out a file for my review.
I glanced at the screen, where Vihaan’s miserable, sweat-soaked face filled the frame. His trembling voice, confessing everything, played on a loop. I leaned back in my chair, gripping the edge of the desk to anchor myself.
