When he doesn’t respond, I lean back. Watching his brows furrow with pain.
“I...” he croaks. “I don’t have a family like he does. Or kids. It... would’ve been better, I think.”
And I know—even as he lets the words out—he doesn’t believe them. Notfully. Because given the circumstances, it couldn’t have been Advik. Dev held all the cards. And he won.
Even in death.
“Yeah, if you’d have built a career out of programming—a decade ago. Joined GenVault as a cybersecurity expert.Sure. You’d be dead instead of him. All you have to do is change course from when you graduated university,” I huff.
I know it isn’t the easiest consolation, but I don’t want him thinking that it could’ve been a shared sacrifice. It belonged to the man who held the place of importance in Mehul’s eyes. Nothing else could’ve prevented it.
I feel his chest deflate on a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I guess.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and humming like the static before a storm.
I don’t know what to say. What to do with this moment that’s suddenly too fragile to hold. But I see it—the look in his eyes. Advik’s already thinking miles ahead. Preparing himself for a wound he suspects is coming.
And then his voice breaks through, trembling.
“I love you, Greesha,” he says, like it costs him something. “I’ve loved you for a long time but... I don’t know what’s next.”
I shift slightly, just enough to bring our faces into the same plane—to search for something in each other’s eyes. But before I can speak, he rushes to fill the silence. Like whatever he sees in mine has already given him his answer.
“I’m not saying there has to be some kind of future,” he adds softly. “But I’m not sure if... you even want one. Withme.”
His voice is careful. Not pleading, just... bracing. Like he’s offering me a gift, and preparing himself for me to hand it back.
AndGod, I want to keep it. I want to curl into him and believe that love is enough to save us.
But I know myself. And worse—I knowher.
Aadya died tonight. That version of me who made space for pain like it was a permanent roommate. And Greesha... she’s trying to claw her way out of the wreckage. Trying to figure outwho she is without blood under her fingernails. Without a past that owns her.
I can’t bring someone else into this storm.
“I want a future,” I say, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingers. “But... my own.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. His breath stutters. His entire body trembles with understanding.With finality.
“I think I need to learn how to build a life,” I murmur. “With my own two hands. Not one handed to me. Not one stitched together by... my past.”
He sighs. His voice shatters. “So it’s... it’s g-goodbye?”
My face crumples. “Yes, baby. I’m so sorry.”
His eyes search mine. Like he’s trying to find a reason to fight, to stay, to argue. But he doesn’t. He just sees me. And maybe for the first time, he sees someone who won’t survive if she stays.
“Okay,” he whispers. Then drops his forehead to mine, tears slipping onto my skin. “Build your life, baby. BeGreesha. Be the woman you always wanted to be.”
And just like that... webreak.
Not in fury or betrayal. But in acceptance.
Because I don’t think my fifteen-year-old self ever dreamed of this version of life. She wanted softness.Safety. Something boring and beautiful.
And I think I still do.
But I’ll have to find it on my own. Without anyone to lean on. Without expecting someone to carry the weight I haven’t learned to bear.
