That two men could be grieving the same kind of loss… but only one of them still has a chance to fix it.
And it isn’tme.
He hands another paper bag to Rohi. She takes it mechanically, her fingers barely closing around it, and then turns and walks away.
Lucian’s shoulders are stiff as he disappears down the corridor, like every step is costing him something.
Rohi doesn’t move.
Not for a long time.
She just stands there, eyes locked on the space where he once was. Frozen. Like she’s waiting for him to come back. Like she can’t believe he left.
Eventually, I have to nudge her out of it.
“What’s in it?” I nod toward the paper bag in her hands.
No response.
“Rohi?”
She flinches, like I touched a live wire.
“I... I don’t know,” she murmurs.
She leans against the wall and opens it. And in the span of a breath, she slides down to the floor—sobs ripping through her chest.
What the fuck?
I drop down beside her and catch her before she completely crumples.
“Shit. Are you okay? What the fuck is even inside this?”
I reach into the bag—and pull out a pair of the fluffiest, whitest slippers I’ve ever seen.
And that’s when it clicks.
I vaguely remember she’d been limping all night. Hours of dancing in those heels. No complaints. No drama.
He saw it.
And he brought her comfort. Without asking. Without needing praise. Just... because.
Fuck.
I manage a small smile. One I hope she doesn’t misread.
Because this? This isn’t pity.
It’s relief.
Relief that maybe—just maybe—someone in this fucked-up circle might actually get a happy ending.
I sit with her as she cries. I don’t say much—just wipe her tears. Just stay beside her, quietly reminding her with every breath:It’s okay to feel.
We head back to the bride’s side of the farmhouse, and I walk Rohi to her door.
Before I leave, I find Kashvi, Rohi’s best friend, and tell her Rohi might need her.
